


The Story Never Ends

by hereallylikednewt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Malia Tate Loves Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Stiles Stilinski Loves Malia Tate, just saying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereallylikednewt/pseuds/hereallylikednewt
Summary: After their first year of college, the pack reunite over the summer, but uncontrolled hunters move into Beacon Hills, the pack work together in groups to locate them and push them out of their hometown. Unfortunately, Malia Tate is killed in the crossfire, leaving everyone she loved stuck in time, not wanting to move on without her. Stiles Stilinski runs away, moving in temporarily with the Tate residence (Malia’s adoptive family,) but secretly he wants to find a way to bring Malia Tate back to life, in the end, he might gain more than he ever bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stalia fans everywhere](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Stalia+fans+everywhere).



> This Fanfiction took a strange turn but I hope you lot work it out.

_Screaming. Bone Chilling screaming._

It didn’t stop. Even with his hands clasped over his ringing ears, it was if someone was holding a drum right next to him and strumming it continuously. No matter how much he shouted and cried out, the screams were mutilated and overpowered his pleas for them to stop. He was curled into a little ball on a metal ground, he was inside some sort of industrial building, he could hear rain pattering down on the roof above him. His body was paralyzed, his head throbbing and he was in fright mode, he couldn’t move, even if he wanted to.

  
It wasn’t until the screaming stopped and his whole world went silent. Then he felt his fingers curl into his open palm; he heard his heartbeat so fast, he thought he’d pass out, he retracted off the ground, onto his backside, cursing the blinding pain in his skull, “Stiles. My name is Stiles Stilinski,” he whispered under his breath, “I am seventeen years old. My best friend is a werewolf,” his voice was rough, it hurt to form words, but he didn’t remember, he was trying, but the events that led him to the state he was in, were a blur. “I am in love with Malia Tate, but I---I ruined--I broke….Malia. Malia...Malia,” her name echoed inside his head, as he kept repeating it, like a mania; he pushed himself off the ground, his weight stumbling into the wall, he held on, “Malia!” He wailed, tears finding his eyes and staining his bruised cheeks.  He cowered back into a wall, memories flooding back to him, “I know she’s here,” he told himself, holding his head, “come on Stiles, remember!” He yelled,  he looked down to his left hand, “she was holding my hand,” he closed his eyes, he could remember her soft loving fingers clasped with his as they ran, but what had they been running from?

 

BANG! His eyes burst open, his adrenaline levels had kicked in so hard, that he hadn’t noticed he had a bullet wound in his lower right leg, “shit,” he noticed the shell had been pulled out, then it hit him, like trains on a track, “Malia knocked me to protect me!” He used all his willpower to push on, “Malia!” His voice cracked as he screamed, “come on, babe, please! Malia!”

  
“Stiles.” The voice was distant, quiet, but it was Malia. Stiles knew that much. His ears were ringing and the word sounded like it came from all directions; he was sure he was speaking, but now, all he could hear was silence, he froze; his laboured breath escaping his lips, he concentrated and Malia’s voice followed once more, “Stiles!” He dashed off, he stopped when he saw her.

 

His world seemed to tumble down onto his shoulders. Malia was was nestled between two corners of the room, her structure leant uncomfortably, her legs cast off to the side; she was wearing denim shorts, that cut off just before her knees, her lavender coloured loose shirt was coated in blood, but the wound was covered by one of her hands, that she had pressed up against it, “Malia,” the words tumbled out his mouth, barely a whisper, “Mal!” He charged towards her, collapsing down by her side; he was met by a weak smile, she moved her hand, that limply hung by her side, up onto his cheek.

 

“You came back to me,” she coughed, rubbing her thumb across his face.

  
“I’d never leave you behind,” Stiles consoled, Malia took her hand of his face, holding it out, shaking, “it’s okay,” he interlocked his fingers with hers, “you’re fine,” he lay his hand on the side of her head, bending forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, “Mal, what happened?”

 

“You don’t remember?” She asked, as Stiles pulled back, he shook his head, “they came out of nowhere. Hunters, but not the usual kind,” she started coughing uncontrollably, Stiles rubbed her back in comfort.

 

“Shush, I remember looking for the hunters,” he sniffled, “but I need to get you out of here before he think about them,” he guided his hands onto injured side, she bawled out in agony, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry,” he was able to shift her hand off the wound, “you were shot!” He exclaimed, he ripped off his hoodie, the freezing temperature hitting him; he ignored it. “Why aren’t you healing?”

  
“I can’t.” Malia sobbed, “I can’t,” she shook her head, as the fear of death took hold, “I got the shell out, but I can’t...Stiles, I don’t want to…”

 

“Don’t stay it,” Stiles pleaded with her, “please don’t say it.”

 

“Okay.” Malia nodded. Stiles got up, moaning at the pain in his leg, “you were shot first, that’s why I knocked you out.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s just my leg,” Stiles placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing her forward, he placed the jacket around her back and tied it around her front, she hissed, “sorry,” he made sure the jacket was secure, “it should stop the bleeding.” He got one of his arms under the curve in her knee and placed his other arm behind her back, he wrapped his fingers around her arm, “okay, I got you, I just need to…”

  
“Shush, Stiles, just breathe,” she reassured him, “they left, the whole building is empty….they just left...so we’re safe.”

 

“I still can’t remember,” Stiles stood up, holding Malia close, she nuzzled her face into his chest, “only thing I remember is holding your hand and then you knocked me out.”

  
“I must have knocked you out too hard,” she chuckled, “we were with Derek and Peter, trying to find out where those hunters have been camping out.”

 

“I know about _them_.” Stiles commented, a tint of hatred in his voice, “I remember being with Peter and Derek in the forest,” he walked across the room, his eyes locking onto a fire exit, “but how did we end up in an abandoned warehouse?”

 

“It’s a long story and I think I am too tired,” she murmured, keeping her head tucked into his chest, squeezing her eyelids together.

 

“Hey, come on Malia, no sleeping.” Stiles half shouted, as he used his foot to kick the door open, he ran down a few steps, it wasn’t long until there was no more steps to go down and he burst out a door; it seemed to exit out on a indoor car park, he darted his eyes around, they located outside light, the sun beaming through, giving him hope. He charged towards it, but the throbbing wound in his leg tore through him and he whimpered, falling to his knees, keeping Malia pressed close, as he fell into a sitting position.

 

“Stiles,” she mumbled in a feverous state, “it’s okay,” he looked down, tears filling his dark hazel eyes; Malia tenderly planted her hand on his cheek, “You have do something for me,” Stiles nodded, “My Dad, not Peter, I mean Henry, he doesn’t have much, please take care of him. Make sure you take care of the pack too, hey?” She kept looked in his eyes, her hand pressed on his cheek, “I loved you,” she sobbed, “I always have. I still do.” Stiles nodded, wheezing as pain pushed down on his chest, “I’m always gonna love you.”

 

“I love you, Malia. Please don’t go, please stay! Stay with me!” He panicked, wrapping his arms around her, bringing her in closer, “please.” Malia beamed at him, her last smile, she rubbed his cheek with the side of her thumb as death locked his ice-cold fingers around her arm and guided her away from Stiles; her eyes came to a close and her hand slipped off his cheek. It happened so fast. That Stiles didn’t know how to react. “Malia?” His breaths came out laboured, “No!” He wailed, his voice cracking, “come back, please come back to me. _Please don’t leave me behind._ ”

 

Stiles was so caught up in his own sobs and screams, that he didn’t even notice the ground beneath him shudder, as the Banshee scream of Lydia Martin shattered through the streets of Beacon Hills. 


	2. Chapter 2

Cora Hale had been through tough situations in her life. She lost her family, leaving only Peter and Derek Hale, the latter being her brother, her anchor, her everything. Than she met Malia Tate, her cousin, it was like looking in a mirror when their lives collided into one, they were both blunt with their statements, they had the same dark sense of humor and they were the only surviving females of the Hale bloodline. Cora had known about Malia since Derek found out, which was almost a year before she was able to actually meet her. Then the two became inseparable, always on Skype talking about their boring human lives and Cora was always trying to get Malia to ask Stiles back out, but she also offered the beat the shit out of him for the break up, she was a protective cousin.

 

When Cora came into town, in the early July, to spend an entire summer with Malia, she felt an unnerving sensation of dread. Then they came, like animals, which is quite ironic, considering what they ended up being. Hunters. Hunters, without a code. That didn't just kill the supernatural, they killed the people who dared to help them. People like Stiles, Melissa, Noah, Chris, Mason; every human being that got stuck in the crossfire.

 

She could tell Malia was scared, for the sake of her adoptive Father and her first love, all Cora could do was reassure her, even though she knew they were in trouble. Then, they all decided to split up, that’s when everything goes wrong, when teams split up; Cora didn’t speak up, she trusted the pack’s judgement. Derek, Peter, Stiles and Malia went in one team. Liam, Corey, Mason, Hayden and Scott were in another. Cora went with Lydia, The Sheriff and Kira. Melissa and Argent remained stationed at the hospital, just in case.

 

Derek, Peter, Stiles and Malia went to the forest, most specifically where Malia had been found almost three years ago . Liam, Corey, Mason, Hayden and Scott travelled to the abandoned train station that Derek used to call base, since he shut up shop, loads of people had been seeking shelter there and it was a perfect place for hunters to lurk.  Cora, Lydia, Noah and Kira travelled around the outer rim of forests.

 

Cora and her group found nothing, she was sure it was because it was still light and they needed to wait till dark. Then Cora noticed Lydia became disoriented, it started when the strawberry-blonde fell into a tree, leaning on it for support, then she closed her eyes, her face in clear discomfort. Before Cora had even formed the question, “are you okay?” Lydia collapsed onto her knees, clamping onto the tree as Malia’s name escaped her lips, it echoed through the ground, shaking the ground they all stood on.

 

Cora fell down by her side, placing her hand on her friend’s shoulder, Lydia’s eyes found hers, “she’s gone,” the Banshee choked, “Malia’s gone.” She fell into Cora, who held her as emotions hit her at full speed; both anger and grief travelling through her veins.

 

“Malia?” Kira questioned, as tears trailed down her face, “she’s gone?” As Lydia nodded, the Kitsune fell into the open arms of Noah Stilinski, whose mind was set on his son.

 

“Girls. We need to find them,” Noah stated.

 

Lydia’s body shuddered, “I can hear her,” she stood up, her head turning to the side, “I can hear her,” she repeated, she darted off.

 

“Lydia!” Cora screamed, “find Scott’s group, I’ll follow her.”

 

“Go,” Noah agreed.

 

Cora dashed off, “Lydia!” She screamed, turning on her heel, she collided with her friend, “what’s going on?”

 

“She’s saying something, but I can’t hear her,” Lydia stumbled out, “it’s not clear enough,” she locked her fingers with Cora’s, “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she spoke, guiding Cora forward, “it just, I didn’t sense it early on and now…”

 

“Lydia, don’t blame yourself.” Cora commented, wiping the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand, “she was my cousin, she was family, we’re going to find out who did this.”

  
“Don’t let yourself sound like Peter.” Lydia told her, “this way. I think she’s talking about Stiles,” they started to run, they ran for a while, Lydia kept changing the direction, until they came onto a road. It was empty, besides a grey building surrounded by a high fence, “he’s in there.”

 

“Who?” Cora asked.

 

“Stiles.” She choked out, “she told me, but she’s gone now.”

 

“Malia?” Cora questioned, “that would always be her last wish. To make sure he’s alright.” They both darted forward, the gate was already cut open; they both crawled through, “look!” She pointed to two unconscious figures on the floor, Derek and Peter. “Derek!” Both girls charged over, Cora placed her hand on her brother’s cheek, as Lydia tried to shake Peter awake. Derek’s eyes cracked open, he jumped out of his skin, backing up. “It’s just us.”

 

“Where are they? The hunters?” Derek asked, “they knocked us out. Why didn’t they just kill us?”

 

“It’s fun,” Lydia explained, “Malia told me before I couldn’t hear her anymore. The way the Hunters are doing this, they find it fun.”

 

“Malia? What?” Derek questioned, “what’s happening?”

 

“She’s dead, Derek,” Cora  told him, her voice shaking, her brother stared at her.

 

“Where’s Stiles?” He asked, “they were together.”

 

“In there,” Lydia pointed, “Malia told me to find them in there. I’ll stay with Peter.”

  
Cora helped her brother up off the ground and they bolted off into the building, they froze as they stumbled through the open door. Stiles was sat in the centre of the space, clinging onto the lifeless body of Malia Tate, his face buried in her chest as he wailed, “Stiles…” Cora gasped, she looked at Derek, charging over to the pair; Cora rid her mind of her blunt self and let the caring side surface, “Stiles, it’s us.” Stiles looked up at her, his face was scarred with tears and his eyes were bloodshot, Derek went to pick up Malia, so they could check Stiles over for injuries, but Stiles snapped at him, backing off, with Malia in his grasp. “Oh Stiles.”

 

“Don’t touch her, you’ll hurt her!” Stiles cried, “I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek spoke gently, “I’m not going to hurt her, you know why?”

 

“Why?” Stiles asked.

 

“Because I love her and I love you. You’re both my family.” Derek explained, “The pair of you, Stiles and Malia. I’m going to take her, keep her safe, so Cora can take care of you.”

 

“You promise you won’t hurt her?” Stiles pleaded.

 

“I promise.” Derek moved forward, taking his cousin in his grasp, standing up, holding her close, her limp head fell into his chest. He had spine-chilling flashbacks to when he had to carry Erica, it had never thought he’d be in the position again.

 

Stiles leant forward onto his knees as Derek trailed away, cuddling Malia close to his chest, trying to stop his emotions getting the best of him. As he walked outside, his gaze met Lydia, who was knelt down by Peter’s side. She hated Peter with every fiber of her body, but she knew the events of the fire had led him to insanity and he was grounding himself, by starting to have a connection with his daughter. So she clung onto his arm, as she cupped her hand over her mouth at the sight of her best friend’s limp, colourless form, held tightly by Derek. Peter snapped his eyes open at the sound of Lydia’s cries, “Lydia?”

 

Lydia jumped back, looking down at him, “I’m sorry Peter,” he creased his forehead together, she helped him into a sitting position, “I’m so sorry.” He went to speak, when he heard the gravel move behind him, as Derek moved his foot as his cousin’s weight was hard on him, as his pain took over. Peter turned his head, a staggered gasp escaping his lips.

 

“Malia?” Peter’s voice hitched, it was the first time Lydia ever heard true emotion echo within the man’s speech, he tightened his grip on the Banshee’s hand as he stood up, charging over, scanning her corpse with his piercing blue eyes, “oh God.” He darted away, his fingers slipping out of Lydia’s grasp, he stumbled into the gate close by, his eyes flashing blue as he fell to his knees and roared.

 

Lydia charged over to him, bending in front of him and taking him into an embrace, nuzzling her face in his shoulder; Peter didn’t cry, even though Lydia knew he needed to, it just wasn’t who he was.

 

Inside, Cora was speaking comforting words to Stiles, but he wasn’t listening, she knew that. She had her hand laid on his shoulder, “I never said sorry,” he spoke, after minutes of deafening silence.

 

“For what?” Cora quizzed.

  
“For being the worst boyfriend in human history,” he commented, biting his bottom lip and looking up at her, “the worst.”  


“No. She adored you. I know that,” Cora explained, “she loved you. We all make mistakes Stiles, all of us do.”

 

“I need to say sorry,” he rose from the spot, wobbling, holding his leg.

 

“What’s wrong with your leg? I could smell your blood a mile off.” She said, holding onto his arm to keep him upright.

 

“I was shot,” Stiles told her.

 

“You were what!?” Cora exclaimed.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he walked forward, trying his best to ignore the blinding agony, but soon enough the arms of unconsciousness pulled him back and he fell to the ground like a ragdoll, a child had become bored with. Cora was able to stop his head impacting with the ground, she scanned him over and than snapped her head back.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Scott McCall had always had a close connection to Stiles Stilinski. When they were young, somehow Stiles would always know when Scott was in any sort of a danger; Stiles was Scott’s hero throughout his junior years, he always put himself between Scott and a bully asking for Scott’s lunch money. He always had a spare inhaler, in his backpack and at his house; where there was Scott, there was Stiles. That never changed, even with small hiccups in their brotherly compassion for each other. When Scott became a werewolf, he was able to repay Stiles, by always being there for him; even though he was somewhat blinded when Allison came into the picture, but he pushed past his overactive sex drive and admiration he had for his first love, to notice the one true unchanged thing about his life, was Stiles.

 

When Stiles was kidnapped by Gerard and tortured for information, Scott could feel it, he knew Stiles was in danger and it made his blood boil, but he also knew when Stiles had returned home safe. It was a connection he never wanted to lose.

 

As Scott climbed out of the abandoned train station with Liam, Corey, Mason and Hayden, he was hit with a sense of dread, which was not his own, “Scott, you okay?” Hayden’s soft voice questioned, “I know it’s a shame we didn’t find anything.”

  
“Wait,” Scott paced forward and then they all, apart from Corey and Mason, heard the distance scream of Lydia Martin, “Oh no.”  


“What?” Mason asked.

 

“Lydia. She was screaming,” Hayden held her head, “What’s going on?”

 

“I think we lost someone,” Scott choked, he moved forward, kicking the wall.

 

“Scott!” Liam exclaimed.

 

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” He turned to face them all, “we need to find them.”

 

They spent a few minutes phoning everyone, Scott reached Kira’s voice mail. Than Malia’s message tone; not knowing that he’d never see her again, _“This is Malia. I  probably can’t be bothered to answer or I’m chasing a deer in the forest. Leave your message after the tone, I guess.”_

“Malia! Phone me back as soon as you get this.” Scott exclaimed, hanging up. He then fumbled for Stiles’s number, but he knew his best friend’s phone was beyond busted and he had no idea why Stiles carried the thing around, he reached another answer machine.

 

 _“Stiles here! You missed me, leave a message after the tone.”_ His voice was so jolly and upbeat, the Stiles that Scott knew and loved, but little did he know, he would never hear that tone again. Stiles was broken. Beyond repair this time around.

  
Scott angrily hung up, “anything?” He asked the youngest members of the pack, they shook their heads, “Oh…shit.”

 

Only a few moments passed when Scott’s phone rang, he picked up without even checking the caller I.D.

_“Scott….”_ Lydia’s voice cracked, _“Where are you?”_

 

“Lydia. What’s going on? We heard you---”

 

 _“She died.”_ Lydia’s voice broke.

  
“Who?” Scott asked, he heard his friend cry, “Lydia? Who?” He spoke softly, tears brimming in his eyes, his mind flashing to Kira, his girlfriend and his best friend, Malia.

 

“Malia’s gone, Scott.” Lydia wailed, “She died in Stiles’s arms and now he’s----.”

 

“Stiles? What’s wrong with him?” Scott choked on his question, he placed his hand on the ball of his stomach as the torment tore through him.

_“He was shot, in the leg. Derek and Cora are taking him to the hospital now.  Peter and I phoned the Sheriff and he went with Kira to get reinforcements. I’ve made up a cover story of sorts, but I just. I don’t understand,_ ” she cried, _“Stiles was asking for you in his state, you need to go. He needs you.”_

 

“Okay, okay. You stay with Peter, I’ll get these guys to come to you.” Scott breathed out, the pain of being the Alpha weighing him down, “be brave Lydia.” He hung up, “You guys track Lydia’s scent. I need to get to the hospital.” Before they could answer, Scott dashed away, high on adrenaline, thinking about Malia, the little time they had with her; just under three years,  they were about to enter their second year of college and everything had gone wrong.

 

He arrived at the hospital, his Mum was stood in the lobby; tears teasing down her cheeks, he charged over, taking her into an embrace, “where is he?” Melissa took his hand, guiding him back to a room, Stiles was sat in a bed; Kira was stood close by, looking away, Scott kissed her cheek and walked over to Stiles, as his Mother paced out, “Stiles?”

 

“She’s gone, Scott.” Stiles cried, burying his hands in his hair, “she’s gone!” Stiles fell into his brother, Scott wrapped two arms around his back, linking his hands together and pulling Stiles close into the groove of his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. Despite the heaviness in Scott’s heart and the sorrow and sadness that burnt his core as he thought about the fact that he’d never see Malia Tate skip into a room, with a smile from ear to ear, laughing about someone falling over in the parking lot, or giggling about a joke Stiles whispered in her ear on the way into class; Scott was still able to hold his best friend and appreciate that he was still there, living and breathing. Broken, but alive. Time past on and Scott realised that Stiles had fell into a deep slumber, he carefully laid him down as Kira lifted the sheet up.

 

“Kira.” Scott grabbed her shaking hands, walking around the bed and taking her in a embrace, “I know what she meant to you and I’m sorry.”

 

“I can’t face the fact she’s gone. I will never see her smile again. I will never see her again, full stop.” Kira cracked, tears bursting like rivers, “It happened so fast and now she’s gone.”

 

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’ll do it together. That much I do know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**One Month Later**

_“A month since the passing of nineteen-year-old Malia Tate has a left a dark cloud over Beacon Hills. With no leads on her attacker, her death is still being treated with the highest importance. A week following her death, Mieczysław  Stilinski, the county Sheriff’s son went missing and his Father is pleading that if anyone has seen the him, that they report it to the station straight away---”_

Scott clicked off his car radio as he turned his car on his drive way, he turned to the sleeping forms of Kira and Lydia, not wanting to wake them up; he placed his hand on Kira’s knee, the gentle touch woke her, “We’re home?” She asked.

 

“Yeah, we’re home.” Scott spoke, his voice low and quiet, “another failed journey to find Stiles.” He hopped out the car, slamming the door; the noise snapped Lydia out of her sleep, just in time to watch Scott tread over the grass onto the sideway and bolt off in a fit of anger.

 

“We need to stop making these ridiculous travels,” Kira spat angrily, jumping out of the car, fumbling for the front door key. Lydia breathed out deeply, knowing she had to be the voice of reason, but everyone she loved was on edge, that she felt like she was going to burst. She paced over to Kira, grasping her hands lovingly and taking the keys, opening the front door, “thanks.”

 

“Look. Stiles does this. He’s sad and lost, he needs time. We worry about him, because we should, he’s our friend, but I just, think he needs time.” Lydia stated, “if we keep following all the leads to a skinny, tall and black haired teenager, we’ll be travelling to every state in the country. We’ve been to three different states in three weeks but he’s not there, he’s not stupid. He knows how to hide from us.”

 

“But why? We all lost Malia.” Kira told her.

 

“He blamed himself for Allison and Aiden and now he couldn’t save Malia.” As Lydia spoke, memories of Malia resurfaced and it hurt her, to remember her best friend. “He’ll come back.”

 

“It hurts Scott.” Kira sniffled, “that’s what bothers me. Scott needs Stiles.” The front door opened and Scott trailed in, pacing over to both girls.

 

“Anything?” Lydia asked.

  
“Cora and Derek are still in Canada. His scent is definitely there, but long gone, they’re on the flight home.” Scott explained.

  
“The Jeep?” Kira asked.

 

“Dumped on a street corner, he must have either stole a car or bought one cheap with the money he withdrew,” Scott itched the back of his head, “I wish he would call.”

 

“Look, we should eat, we did just drive fourteen hours.” Lydia took out her phone, “I’ll order in.” She paced into the kitchen, she noticed the post Melissa had gathered, she shifted through it as she ordered on her phone, she came across a thick letter, addressed to Scott, covered in post stamps; she recognized the Canada stamp, “Scott.” She walked out, throwing it to him, he caught it, “looks like his handwriting.”

 

Scott wasted no time in tearing it open, he unfolded the letter and read it out loud,

 

“ _Hi Scott,_

_Look. I’m sorry. I’m selfish and mean, I shouldn’t have left you in the dark like this, but I couldn’t stay in that town a minute longer, not with all the photos of Malia plastered around for memorials. All the constant reminders that she’s gone and the people we used to have classes with lie about knowing her. When we were the only ones who truly ever knew her._

_I’m safe. I’m just looking for something, but I’m not sure what, yet. An escape, yes. We have a month before we have to be back a college and right now, I couldn’t care less about a Pre-FBI course. I just want her back._

_If you really want to meet me, by the time you read this letter I should be where you and I realised we couldn’t live without each other. If you don’t know where I’m talking about, then I guess I won’t be seeing you. Just know that I love you and our pack. I’ll be back, I promise._

_Love always,_

_Stiles.”_

“Why the riddle?” Kira asked.

 

“Well, he knows we’ll turn this in and he doesn’t want people tracking him down,” Lydia commented, Scott placed the letters in her hands, “Where you going?”

 

“Motel Glen Capri,” Scott ran out, getting into his car and driving away, before the girls’ could stop him.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles Stilinski had never been able to deal with heartbreak. When he watched _Star Wars_ as a young boy, he couldn’t watch the scenes where people died, it got to him as someone whose Mother was ill most his childhood and than passed away before he had even become a teenager. He just didn’t know how to bear it and he never opened up about the problem he had, he didn’t want people to worry.

 

The day Allison Argent died, he awoke to the crying form of Lydia Martin and in his weakened form, he was able to run through the corridors, with Lydia begging him not to. He was met by the lifeless body of his sister figure, in the arms of her Father; Scott was there to catch him as Stiles fell head over heels into a full blown panic attack. When Aiden died, all he felt was responsible. Than he lost Malia Tate, that was the last straw, he lost his happiness, the last piece of hope he had.

 

He didn’t know what he was doing, running away. All he knew was that he was looking for something. He never thought he’d return to Motel Glen Capri, not since Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Ethan almost died. He had to find the cheapest motel along the journey he was doing and he knew, it was a secure location to meet with Scott, somewhere they both shared a connection.

 

Stiles was laid on his bed, looking up at the ceiling and daydreaming; he had his phone playing downhearted music in the background, he closed his eyes thinking about Malia, their relationship and their love, but all the cherished beautiful memories were tainted by her death. Stiles hummed along to the melody, twiddling his thumbs, but the images became too overpowering. He sat up, that’s when he heard the sound of the motorbike pulling up outside, he jumped up, pushing back the curtains, he saw Scott pull his helmet off.

 

Scott’s eyes connected with Stiles’s, he dashed up the metallic stairs as Stiles drew the door open, “What the hell?!” Scott half exclaimed, walking in, “Stiles! The whole county is looking for you! You’re on national news.”

 

“I’ve seen,” Stiles told him, shutting the door, “well my face is everywhere. Guess the country connects with a kid who lost his first love and ran away.” He spat, “sorry, that’s not what I meant...it’s just like, I’m looking for something.”

 

“What?” Scott asked, his tone going from angry to comforting in a matter of seconds.

  
“No idea.” Stiles stroked the stumble forming on his face; his hair was also unruly and growing longer at the back, the three weeks had been long in Scott’s eyes and it was as if he hadn’t seen Stiles in years, “I shouldn’t have ran away without telling you guys where I was going.”

 

“Why now?” Scott quizzed.

 

“I’m going further away,” Stiles told him, “There is something I need to do.”

 

“Come home and we can do whatever you want together.” Scott said, reassuringly, “what about the Hunters?”

 

“Peter ripped all their throats out!” Stiles shouted. “Please Scott, I have to do this and you can’t ask why.” Stiles pleaded.

 

“Okay, swear to me on something important that if you do this, you’ll phone one of us everyday.” Scott half shouted.

  
“Swear on what?” Stiles asked.

 

“On something important!” Scott yelled.

 

“Malia Tate.”  Stiles lamented, Scott stepped back, placing his head in the palms of his hands; tears trickled down Stiles’s cheeks, “If you had done this with Allison, I would have let you, please, please let me do this with her.”

 

“We knew Allison, eleven months, but it was a lifetime. We’ve known Malia almost three years and I understand that this must be really hard for you,” Scott said wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket, “promise you’ll keep in contact.”

 

“I will.” Stiles placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder, drawing him into a hug, “I love you Scott.”

 

“Love you too, Stiles.”


	6. Chapter 6

Watching Scott become smaller in his wind mirror was not something Stiles enjoyed, but he had his mind set and his ideas weren’t the easiest thing to change. So he fought on, hands clutched onto the steering wheel, eyes on the road, as his Malia playlist echoed through his new car. He did miss his Jeep, but the memories of Malia were too real and it made him sick to the stomach.

 

Malia’s playlist had been made by her for his seventeenth birthday, considering his next birthday was his twentieth, he felt as if time had flown by. The songs all connected to them on a personal level, for Malia and Stiles, at least.

 

The album only contained four songs, because Malia had no idea how to burn as disc and guessed when it came down to it **, but every song meant something to them.** _Tale As Old As Time_ was from Malia’s favourite film from her childhood, Beauty and the Beast, it was the song her and Stiles danced to in his bedroom a month after they started dating; Stiles remembered fondly as she stepped on his toes multiple times, whilst she hummed along to the tune. _Make You Feel My Love -_ It hadn’t taken Malia long to discover Adele, well, it was easy because Stiles had her first album downloaded. After hearing her Bob Dylan over, Malia spent weeks singing it in the shower and to Stiles as they both fell asleep in bed at night. Malia hadn’t been the best singer in the world, she was often out of tune and she sang to loud, but to Stiles, she had the voice of an angel. _Make You Feel My Love_ ended up being their first dance at Junior prom together. _Feel Real By Deptford Goth -_ Malia classed it as their _“alone time,”_ song. Once they had the playlist playing in the Jeep with Lydia, Kira and Scott, when the song came on, Stiles and Malia cackled between themselves, it didn’t take a long time for Scott to realise and he was disgusted. After that, the pair had to skip the song when their friends were in the car. _Fools By Lauren Aquilina -_ The song was Stiles’s favourite, it was on all his playlists, but it reminded him of his love for Malia. How they both came across as logical and cold people, but inside they had the ability to love someone with all the compassion of someone who comes across as loving and warm.

 

Stiles had it on repeat, the same four songs echoing through his brain, a part of Malia that was still there. Like she was sat by him, her feet on the bonnet and the window open, laughing about whatever joke Stiles had come up with.

 

Stiles knew where he was going and what he was doing. He just didn’t want his friends to know, they’d get the wrong idea and drag him away from his heartache. Stiles drove, as the morning sun rose behind him and a new day began, a bright new summer's morning, the world greeted another day without Malia Tate and even with the sun beaming down, Stiles felt as if a rain cloud was draped over him.

 

By noon, Stiles had reached the truly rural part of America; after following maps on his sat nav, in the distance, he could see a small grey house, surrounded by two white-washed sheds, which were due a new coat of paint. As he drove towards the location,  he saw a bright red barn lined with white painted; it was a stereotypical ranch, that you saw in movies with happy endings, where the boy always gets the girl and the animals are never sent to the harvester. 

 

He drove along the rocky driveway, where the trees faded and he was met by miles of open fields. He stopped the car, jumping out and slamming the door closed, locking it. He paced up to a white picket fence, clicking it open and walking up a curved path, up three wooden steps to a house, he nodded three times and walked back, laying his hands down by his side. He heard three dogs bark, clawing at the front door. Stiles patted his unruly hair down with his hands and did up the last tie on his red and black flannel as the door drew open.

 

A woman, in her late forties, with her auburn hair held back by a single clip in plain blue jeans and purple overhanging shirt, with black wellingtons that cut off below her knees coated with a thick layer of mud stepped out; her eyes, at the first, didn’t recognise the form of Stiles in front of her, but after a while she gasped, “Stiles?”

 

“Hi Andrea, I know I shouldn’t have come uninvited and I know technically I’m still a missing teenager, but I need to be somewhere where she called home,” he tried to get out, his bottom lip quivered; Andrea stepped forward, taking him into an embrace, “is he here?”

 

“Yeah, he is,” Andrea drew back, “hardly speaks though,” she brushed her hand through Stiles’s locks, “We better inform someone that you’re okay. You had the whole ranch worried, the whole of the **Tate** residence were trying to locate you with our old fashioned methods.” She smiled, Stiles giggled, he sniffled to stop himself from crying, “she would have wanted us to make sure you were okay.”

 

“Yeah, she would have wanted  me to make sure Henry was okay and don’t worry, my friend Scott is in the process of telling the authorities that I’m alive and well.” Stiles took in a deep breath,  “I came here because Malia loved you guys, you were her family. You got her back and then she died, just like that.”

 

“Malia was a spark in my brother’s dark life,” She gestured back into the house, “come on in and we can talk with a warm cup of coffee.” She walked in, slipping her boots off, scrubbing the dirt off on her top; Stiles trailed in, closing the door, “the kids have gone off to the park, they’ll be delighted to see you. They been ever so worried.”

 

“Malia and I came here a lot, even after we...broke up,” Stiles trailed off, “we came four times, right? Plus the kids would facetime us quite often.”

 

“They wanted to know their cousin. None of them were born before the crash,” she started, walking into the kitchen, “If you don’t mind me saying Stiles. I always loved you and Malia together.”

 

“Yeah me too,” Stiles laughed sadly, jumping onto a wooden stool.

 

“You were so close as a couple and you both loved each other, but needed each other all the same. Then when you guys broke up, you were still inseparable and in love,” she froze, catching herself, realising her niece was never coming back, “you know she loved you, right, Stiles?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded, “Trust me, I know.”

 

“Andrea! Who was it?” An elderly voice came from the back of the house; Andrea swung herself into the door frame.

 

“It’s Stiles, Mum!” She called.

 

“Stiles? Malia’s Stiles?” The voice questioned, “tell him to come right here now, so I can give him a hug and a slap around the back of the head.”

 

“She means well,” Andrea said turning around, “she has been worried about you, but she was angry you ran away.”

 

“Yeah, so was everyone else,” Stiles trailed off to Andrea’s Mother’s room, “Good Afternoon Mrs. Tate.” Malia’s adoptive grandmother was petite in size, but Stiles knew she could hold her own in a fight; she was very much like Malia, with her blunt comments and her way of showing compassion, Stiles leant into the doorframe.

 

“It’s Agatha to you, Stiles.” She told her, “Malia’s Stiles. Come into the light, so I can see you, hey.” Stiles stepped into the light, “Oh dear Lord. Grief doesn’t look good on you.”

 

“Does it look good on anyone?” Stiles asked.

 

“What happened to the boy with a short over-gelled hair and baby face?” Agatha questioned, her eyebrow raised.

 

“He grew up.” Stiles answered.

 

“Come and sit,” she was lay in a white bed, in a dark blue dressing gown, Stiles shifted, “Come.” He nodded, perching on the edge of the bed, “They day my son, Malia’s Dad and his wife found out they couldn’t have children, it shattered them and the family. It took them years, but one day, a baby; small and fragile, barely a week old, was left on their doorstep in a small basket, in the cold months of November, with nothing, but a small handwritten note that said, _‘her name is Malia.’_ ”  She explained, she watched Stiles’s eyebrows raise, “When Malia came here for the last time, she told us she knew she was adopted and I told her that story, she understood  what her parents did for her, they fought to keep her, authorities wanted to put her in care, locate her parents, but they kept her, they adopted Kylie a few years later.” Agatha explained, “You remember the last time you came here, you two were freshly broken up, but still best friend’s?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “on the third night, we gathered all of you, apart from the kids.”

 

“Seven of us; me, Andrea, Henry, Malia’s two uncles and aunties, seeing you two standing, Malia shaking on the spot holding hands. We thought you were either going to reveal you were back together or that you accidentally put a bun in the oven. ” She told him, Stiles snorted a laugh, “but the truth was more shocking. The fact Malia was special, didn’t phase me, I knew she was special. Her being a supernatural werecoyote, now that was the surprise.”

 

“She was scared, she thought you’d blame her. For what her Mother did.” Stiles explained.

 

“Don’t call her that. She was not Malia’s Mother. She was the person who killed Kylie and my daughter-in-law. She tried to kill you and Malia, which is not allowed.” Agatha was an old woman, in her early nineties, but Stiles was sure if she ever crossed paths with the Desert Wolf, she snap her in half, “and Peter Hale? Or whoever. Might have tried, but no he is not her Dad. Henry Tate is her Dad and she’s my Granddaughter, even if she’s gone.”

 

“What if I could find a way to bring her back?” Stiles asked.

 

“Stiles. I used to believe in the heavens and the earth, that God controlled our fate, but then I saw Malia’s eyes glow blue and she transformed into a coyote right in front of my eyes, my whole belief system shifted. But, my boy, that is a dangerous game you're playing, if you take that path, you will find only darkness.” Agatha tapped his hand, “and Malia wouldn’t want that.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles sniffled, he heard the sound of kids outside, “I better go and see them.”

 

“Yeah, they will be so happy.” Agatha beamed, Stiles jumped up, walking outside.

 

“Stiles!” A little girl’s voice shouted, she was around five in years and she was wearing a patterned yellow and white dress; her blonde locks were up in a bobble, she charged over, as Stiles knelt down and took her into a hug.

 

“Hello Georgina,” Stiles beamed, he drew back as she sat on his knees; twin boys, a few years older than their sister charged over, “Harry, Thomas. How’ve you been?”

 

“Okay. We’ve been making everyone smile, as they miss our cousin a lot,” Thomas explained.

 

“Yeah, I do too.” Stiles rubbed Georgina’s back, when a girl, opened and closed the gate behind her, Thomas and Henry charged into the house, Georgina wondered off to a nearby wooden swing tied to a lone tree. 

 

“Hi Stiles,” the girl acted older than her years. She had been born two years after the crash and that’s why she was given her name.

  
“Hello Malia,” Stiles walked over, picking the girl up as tears bubbled into her eyes and she broke down; she nestled her face into his shoulder, holding onto him tightly, “It’s okay.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

Stiles walked back into the Tate residence, carrying little Malia who had fallen asleep in his arms. He paced into the kitchen where Andrea was preparing lunch, “Oh, she’s been inconsolable since her cousin died.” She explained, as Stiles took a seat in the corner, holding the child close to his chest, “every time we call her name, she bursts out in tears, more so when she’s holding her new baby sister.”

 

“I forgot you were having a baby, when was she born?” Stiles asked.

 

“Two weeks ago,” Andrea stated, “We named her Kylie, the only reason we didn’t call Georgina ‘Kylie’ was because my husband had just lost his Mother when Georgie was born. We thought it fitting that there was a Malia and Kylie running around again. It’s not the case though, she won’t let people call her Malia anymore. We call her Lia.”

  
“Oh okay,” Stiles rubbed Lia’s back, kissing her forehead, “Must be hard on you lot. I can’t imagine.”

 

“I bet my Mum told you the story of how your Malia was left on Henry’s front door.” Andrea stated, sitting down, Stiles nodded, “yeah. The day I first held her, I knew she wasn’t related to my brother, but oh my God she was his daughter. They were so close, the pair of them. The day they went missing, I travelled down with my husband, Mark and then two days later, your Dad told us they were dead, all three of them and that Malia had been dragged away by coyotes, now that broke my brother. I was pregnant with Lia than, when Henry’s world fell down. He didn’t want to leave Beacon Hills, he isolated himself. Nine years later, I get a phone call from my brother, I couldn’t tell what he was saying.”

 

“The day we found Malia.” Stiles smiled.

 

“I worked it out that he was saying, _‘they found her! They found her!’_ ’” Andrea explained, “I was petrified, because he was so hysterical, I couldn’t tell if he was crying or not….I replied, _‘they found Malia’s body?’_ And he said, _‘no, they found her alive.’_ I have never cried so much in my life, I was so happy and I remember telling the twins and Lia, they’re cousin was alive. He put her on the phone to prove to me she was back and I heard this teenage voice I’d never heard before, but I knew it was her. My niece.”

 

“My Malia,” Stiles mumbled, “God. She was so beautiful and amazing.”

 

“She was.” Andrea grinned, reflecting on her niece; her smile faded, “a month ago, Henry called me again and I generally thought, because he loved you two together, I thought he was phoning to say you worked it out. Instead, he told me that Malia had died and he couldn’t get over the fact that she died in your arms. I can’t imagine that Stiles. Can I--”

 

“You can ask,” Stiles nodded.

 

“Could she speak?” Andrea questioned.

 

“Yes, she was worried about me,” Stiles laughed nervously, “I carried her out and I collapsed onto my knees, she told me to take care of Henry. Then she told me she loved me and she always had,” his chest seized up, “I told her I loved her and then she died, she was smiling up at me, she was so at peace with it.”

  
“Because you were safe,” Henry’s voice came from the doorframe; Stiles looked up, clinging onto Lia as she slipped in her sleep, “Hello Stiles.”

 

“Hi Mr. Tate,” Stiles sniffled.

 

“You did good, kid,” Henry walked over, pulling a chair out in front of them, sitting down, “She was a happy child, always was. So in love with life. She was so in love with you. Sometimes she’d get home, jumping up and down about you. She’d tell me most things and it made me so delighted to see her smile like it could never fade.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles’s voice was barely a whisper, “Malia saved my life. You guys never knew because it was something I never wanted to resurface, but just after I first met Malia…..”

 

“Saved Malia.” Henry added.

 

“Saved Malia with my pack. I was possessed by a demon known as the Nogitsune, Void Stiles. He did bad things, he killed people,” he whispered, making sure Lia was deeply asleep and he could carry on, “my pack were able to push it back, so I could surface and that’s when I first spoke to Malia, in Eichen House. She saved me from Void, she...was Malia. I let Void in, to save her life and I’d do it again and again, if it brought her back now. I saved her, but I couldn’t this time round.”

 

“Don’t. You. Dare. Blame yourself, Stiles Stilinski.” Henry begged him, tears teasing in his eyes, “Please.”

 

“Okay.”

 

That night, Stiles stayed in the spare room; he spent most of the evening sat on the window sill looking up at the stars, he was able to take a look at the awe-inspiring sight. He loved the stars, but they would never compete with his love for Malia. He was about to retire to bed, when a knock came at the door and Lia wandered in, “Stiles?”

 

“Sweetheart, you should be asleep,” Stiles said walking over to her, kneeling in front of her as she yawned.

 

“You left your phone downstairs,” she pulled it out of her dressing gown pocket, “it was making a noise and I was worried it might wake up baby Kylie, it was already that broken.”

 

“Yeah, I threw it at a wall once,” he commented, giggling, “go on honey, back to bed, see you in the morning.” She nodded, walking away.

 

Stiles looked down to see missed messages from Lydia, he pressed call and paced over to the window, _“Stiles? You actually called back?”_

“I’m sorry.” Stiles answered.

 

 _“Mr. Tate phoned us,”_ Lydia said, _“He felt like he had to confirm that you were safe. Look, I don’t want to, but I need to head back to London. My course starts soon and I’ve left Parrish all alone for over a month. We don’t have enough money to let him come over.”_

“You can go Lydia,” Stiles exclaimed, “Malia would want you too. I want you too.”

  
_“Look, no plane goes from Beacon county to London, I have to go to  either Los Angeles or New York first. You’re in LA, so I’ll stop over, it feels wrong, if I just left you. It would feel like betraying her, if I let you hurt and not do anything about it.”_ Lydia explained.

 

“Okay, I’m thinking of staying here a few weeks, to help the Tate’s out.”  Stiles commented, “See you soon, Lydia.”

 

 _“See you soon, Stiles. Take care.”_ She hung up, leaving Stiles alone once more.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Lydia Martin decided to book her flight for the early morning. She was never the best at goodbyes, so she skipped down her stairs, with her suitcase fully packed and left a handwritten note for her Mum; she walked outside, where her Uber was sat waiting on the curb, “Morning,” the driver smiled as she got in.

 

“Morning,” Lydia looked at her phone, it was half one and her flight left at three. She watched the scenery go by, they past the forest that her pack had ran through many times; where they found Malia Tate, she beamed fondly, remembering her friend. It had been three days since she told Stiles she wanted to see him before she left for London, she hadn’t heard from him since, but she knew the Tate residence would have informed them if he had left. As Beacon Hills faded from sight, her phone buzzed, a message from Parrish, she always got one, as he was in London and was ahead her in time, he was heading to work, she texted back, ‘ _Be careful, I love you. Can’t wait to see you_.’

 

She balanced her head on the window, watching her beloved town disappear as they pulled up in front of the airport. “Thank you!” She chanted to the driver, getting her suitcase and walking in, she stopped when she was Scott and Kira stood close by, “you two! You know I hate goodbyes.”

 

“We know,” Kira told her, “but we had to see you,” she drew her friend into a hug. Scott wrapped his arms around both girls, kissing Lydia’s strawberry blonde locks.

 

“Okay, I need to go through the gate,” Lydia pulled out of the hug, “I promise I’ll try and get Stiles to come home.”

 

“You be safe,” Scott said, squeezing her shoulder, “call us whenever you need us.”

 

“I need to go,” Lydia bit her bottom lip, “I love you,” she said to the pair of them.

 

“We love you too,” Scott grinned, “see you soon,” he linked hands with Kira as Lydia walked away to the main gate.

 

Lydia slept on the flight from Beacon County to LA, she didn’t even know the flight was delayed, she just slept. When the plane landed, it was early morning, almost eight. She hopped in a Uber and texted Stiles that she was on her way to the ranch; Stiles soon messaged back, saying, _‘Text me when you’re close, I’ll meet you by the entrance.’_  Lydia didn’t talk to her driver, she just looked outside, wanderlust taking over her, she had always wanted to discover LA; she had been sat in the back of the Uber for over an hour, she hadn’t realised the distance from the airport, she had so much to say to  Stiles, but not a lot of time to say it.

 

As the Uber pulled up on the side of the road, Lydia could see Stiles sitting on a wooden gate, looking down at his dangling legs; he darted his vision up at the sound of the car, Lydia jumped up and waved goodbye to her driver before skipping over to her friend, leaving her suitcase on the roadside. Stiles jumped down taking her into a hug, “What are you wearing?!” She questioned, pushing back; Stiles had a red, black and white flannel on with denim dungarees

 

“Well, they leant me some clothes.” Stiles grinned.

 

“You look like you fit in perfectly on a ranch,” Lydia smiled, “Okay, the journey here took longer than expected, that driver said he’d come back in half an hour.” She eyeballed him, her smile fading.

 

“What?” Stiles asked.

 

“You’ve lost weight,” Lydia commented.

 

“I’m fine, Lydia.” Stiles told her, “Trust me.”

  
“I wish I could.” Lydia told him, Stiles jumped up, sitting on the fence, Lydia climbed up sitting down next to him, “What are you doing here, Stiles?”

 

“Malia died and part of me died too,” Stiles began, “the part that was holding on to hope,” he looked back at the ranch, “this place gives me hope. Malia has five young cousins who all adored her and well, they adore me. They give me a reason. Like she did.”

 

“A reason?” Lydia questioned.

 

“Lydia, I was in a bad place when I fell in love with Malia,” Stiles explained, “I really bad place, I was gonna end it.”

 

“You weren’t.” She stated, “Stiles…”

 

“But then she turned up at my house, she had a bad dream about the crash and I realised, she was worse off than me.” Stiles explained, “then she died and nothing made sense anymore. I knew I had to come here, these people love her! And they let me in. I don’t like people letting me in, apart from you guys.”

 

Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat, before saying,  “Scott wanted me to persuade you to come home, but I don’t think I can. I think this is the place you need to be right now,” she gestured, “but the McCall pack will never be whole without you or Malia.”

  
“Or Allison,” Stiles said, nudging her shoulder, “I’ve dropped out of my college course, for now. I am gonna stay here for a bit and then there is something I have to do.”

  
“What?” Lydia asked.

 

“It’s a long story,” he turned to her, “looking forward to seeing Parrish?”

 

“I haven’t seen him in over a month. Long distance relationships are hard. He left America for me and I’ve abandoned him in London.” Lydia giggled, “I can’t wait to see him.”

 

“Hold onto him. Hold onto to him with your life and never ever let go. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.” Stiles begged her.

 

“Oh Stiles ,that’s who you are , isn’t it? Crash the car, blame the road. Lose your first love and blame it on yourself, when there is nothing you could have done to save her.” Lydia told him.

 

“I could have been faster,” Stiles mumbled.

 

“With a bullet wound in your leg!” She exclaimed, “how is that by the way?”

 

Stiles rubbed his thigh, “fine, I can walk in a straight line if that’s what you mean.”

 

“Stiles!” A young voice came from behind, Lydia span her head around, to see a girl running towards them, she was wearing a purple and black flannel with black dungarees; she had dark brown hair that curled around the bottom, Lydia’s mouth opened agape, she knew the young girl was only Malia’s adoptive cousin, but somehow, she had reminded of Lydia, of her best friend.

 

“Lia!” Stiles jumped down, picking the girl up and laughing, tickling her.

 

“No, Stiles!” She giggled, “no, no, stop. It tickles! Mum said we need your help, the cattle escaped.”

 

“Are you saying that the twins left the gate open again?” Stiles asked, holding her out in front of him, she had her legs wrapped around his torso and he was supporting her back.

 

“Yes,” the girl nodded, Stiles carried on tickling her.

 

“What are your brothers like?” Stiles quizzed, they both howled with laughter; a tear teased down Lydia’s cheek, seeing how close Stiles was to her, she didn’t want to say it, but it looked like the child could be the creation of Malia Tate and Stiles Stilinski. A future that would never come. “Hey, Lia, this is Lydia.” Stiles walked over, holding tightly onto the beaming girl.

 

“Hello, Lydia,” the girl held her hand out, Lydia shook it, “My name’s Malia Temple, but everyone calls me Lia.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Lia,” Lydia grinned, looking at Stiles, who nodded with a sad smile present.

 

“Sorry, Lydia,” Stiles started, he reached for Lia, lifting her up and sitting her on his shoulders, “We have to round up some runaway cows.”

 

“You go and find them, my lift will be here soon!” Lydia called, “speak soon Stiles.”

 

“Bye Lydia!” Both Stiles and Lia chanted as Stiles bolted off, little Malia hanging onto him for dear life.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Kids! How many cows are there in total?” Stiles asked, chasing after two cattle, charging towards a forested area of the ranch; the twins, Henry and Thomas were chasing after one rogue cow that was the closest to the barn they belonged in. Georgina was just sat on the grass cheering them on, the cows that is, not her siblings or Stiles. Lia was charging around with their three sheep dogs, chasing three cows into their rightful place.

 

“Fifteen!” Lia answered Stiles, shutting the gate behind the three she finally got in, “So we’re missing nine!”

 

“Okay, why do I prefer chasing an Alpha pack around?” Stiles asked himself, quietly.

 

“What?” Lia shouted.

 

“Nothing!” Stiles exclaimed, “Come on!” Lia charged over to Stiles, the dogs surrounding them, “Okay, Lia! You seem to be a natural at this?”

 

“Seriously! My brothers learnt how to lock that gate from my Dad! Who is also rubbish at locking the gate! So since I was five, I’ve been chasing these cattle!” She shouted, “boys, open the gate!” Thomas and Henry pulled the gate open; Stiles, Lia and the dogs ushered in four more cows; they slammed the gate shut, Stiles made sure it was securely shut. “We better go and see how my Dad is doing?”

 

“Think he found the other nine?” Stiles asked.

 

“I hope,” Lia smiled, “Henry, Thomas, stay here to open the gate when we find the others and don’t touch it! We don’t want them to escape again!”

 

“Come on Georgia!” Stiles held his arm out and Georgia jumped up, clasping her hand around his; he picked her up and she wrapped herself around him.

 

“I can fly!” She exclaimed. 

 

“Yes, you can!” Stiles ran off, making flying noises, Lia chased after them, “Hey Mark!” He called over to their Dad, “Found the rest of the cattle?” 

 

“There!” He pointed out where nine cattle were huddled together, “They don’t like me that much. I’m better with the horses,” 

 

“I think Lia, the dogs and I can handle these guys!” Stiles handed Georgia over to her Father, “I’ve faced worse.” He winked, Mark smiled; Stiles turned around, “Lia, can you get the dogs to round these guys up?”

  
“Of course!” Lia called back, she ran off, two of the dogs following behind, she span around, “come on, Ryland!” She called to the other dog, who ran past Stiles, following Lia to the cattle, “come on girls! It’s lunchtime!” She shouted to the cows, Stiles smiled, watching Lia chase the dogs as they charged after the cattles.

 

“So much like her cousin,” Stiles chuckled, Lia turned to look at Stiles, smiling, as she charged along with the dogs and cows.

 

“She really is. Always idolised your Malia,” Mark began, “Her hero.”

  
“Her legacy lives on.” Stiles smirked. “Now, that’s what she’d want.”

 

They all regrouped at the house; Malia’s grandmother was sat in the rocking chair sat at the front of the house, Andrea was holding her baby daughter, Kylie, stood by the door. “Did you get them all in?” 

 

“Yes!” Georgia clapped, jumping out of her Dad’s arms, to the swing.

 

“Lia is amazing with the animals, Andrea!” Stiles shouted, jumping over the gate, holding onto Lia’s hand.

 

“Is that right?” Andrea beamed.

 

“Stiles thinks he can find a way to make sure the gate remains shut, even twin proof the gate!” Mark shouted.

 

“Really?” Agatha asked, “I’ve been on this farm my whole life, ninety-four years and those cattle escape at least once a week.”

 

“Well, my best friend works in a veterinary practise, he wants to be a vet in the future.” Stiles sat on the railings of the house, right in front of Agatha and Andrea, Mark walked up the stairs, folding his arm around his wife, “they have this system on the main doors that I helped create, it stops people from the outside getting in, it was happening quite a lot. Also the dogs were able to push the door open quite a lot and run out. So the new system metically locks when closed, it then requires a code to open.” 

 

“So modern,” Agatha commented, “Maybe it’s what this farm needs.” 

 

“Could you do that Stiles?” Andrea asked.

 

“Yeah, but you’ll have to wait until I get back.” Stiles mumbled.

 

“Pardon?” Andrea asked.

 

“I have to go somewhere, it’s what I came for. I love being here with you guys. I will come back, I promise. I need to do something, something I have to do alone.” Stiles tapped his knees, “and it’s gonna really hurt, but I have to.”

 

“Is this what you and I spoke about?” Agatha asked, “I told you about the dark path you were taking.” 

 

“It’s not that. You can’t cheat death, but you can trick it. I learnt that from the druid and the banshee kind, ” he turned back to see all the children running around and playing, “I need to talk to her, I know that seems impossible.”

 

“You want to talk to Malia?” Andrea asked.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded, “and I know someone who can help me.  That’s why I ran away to Canada and New York, trying to track down that one person. Originally I was like,  _ ‘I will find a way to bring her back!’  _ Now I know I can’t,” he wiped his tears away, “but I will speak to her. I need to say something to her.”

  
“What?” Henry’s voice came from the doorframe, Stiles’s eyes trailed over to him.

 

“I need to say sorry.” Stiles sniffled, “I broke up with her, wrongly. There was this kid, Donovan, he wanted my Dad to feel emotional pain. So he attacked me, at my school, he was going to kill me, he chased me up this scaffolding,” he wiped the tears out of his eyes, “he tried to kill me and I tore this pin out of the scaffolding, it killed him.” Andrea closed her eyes tears teasing down her cheeks, “I was scared, I didn’t tell anyone, but Malia worked it out, she always could see right through me. I was too angry with myself and I snapped, kind of pushed the blame on the people I loved. I walked away from her and I shouldn’t have.” 

 

“She loved you,” Henry told him, “She would have known.”

 

“I know, but I have to say it. I need to say it.” Stiles told them, “She needs to hear it.”

 

“Okay, but if you get hold of her,” Henry started, “You tell her that I love her and wherever she is, to tell her Mum and sister that I miss them too and I still love them as much as I did before.”

 

“I promise,” Stiles beamed, “I will...I loved her too, she was the love of my stupid life. I remember when I first fell in love with Malia. It wasn’t because of her beauty or her witty, sarcastic comments. It was her eyes. That might sound cliche and just the whim of a teenage boy blinded by his first love, but it isn’t. I saw a story in her eyes, one full of pain and love. I saw Malia Tate. I saw our future and then I watched it fade, as she faded,” he cried, “I have to see her one last time, say sorry and tell her I love her one billion times. No matter how cheesy it gets.”

 

“You do it.” Andrea told him, “You tell her and than you come here, to us. We’re family now Stiles. Are you gonna say goodbye to them?” She said gesturing to the children.

 

“I was always crap at goodbyes.” Stiles cursed, “but yeah, I’ll pack and say farewell, may I borrow some clothes?” He asked.

 

“Of course,” Andrea smiled, “Take anything out of the spare room, no one needs it.” Stiles jumped up, kissing baby Kylie’s head before charging upstairs. 

 

He came down, fully packed into one rucksack about half an hour later. Lia was sat at the bottom of the stairs, her hands pressed on her chin. “Come on Lia, I got to go.” 

 

“Malia.” She said, standing up, turning on the spot, “I need to get used to being called that again, right? It was her name, but it is also mine.”

 

“The name we have, is a promise we make,” Stiles grinned, “I got that line from my favourite show,”  he winked.

 

“Are you coming back?” She asked.

 

“Ah, Malia Connors. I made a promise to my Malia, your cousin. That I’d never leave her behind and I promise you that. I’m coming back.” He took her into a hug, “See you soon, Lia.” 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Leaving the calm atmosphere of the ranch into the busy streets of San Francisco; it was a lonely five hour drive, but it gave Stiles time to reflect with everything he learnt from the Tate residence. He pulled up on a roadside, rubbing his forehead, “Oh Stiles. Of course you get lost.” He cursed, he jumped out the door, slamming it closed.  He reached for his phone, a handful of messages from Scott and his Dad.

 

He locked the car and walked down the street, his eyes falling onto a local cafe; he paced inside, sitting down in a booth, dialling a number and pressing the receiver to his ear, he chewed at his nails as he was met by dialling tone.  _ “Stiles! Oh my God, Stiles.”  _

 

“Hi Dad,” Stiles shook, looking out the glass window; his leg shaking, “Dad...I’m sorry. I should have called you earlier.” 

_   
_ _ “No it’s fine. How are you? Are you eating? Sleeping?”  _ Noah rushed.

 

Stiles laughed, pressing his fingers to the brim of his nose, “Yes, I’m sleeping and the Tate family kept me well fed. They’ve also packed me a years simply of groceries and packed food, I think I’ll be fine,” he said, giggling his way through the sentence.

 

_ “Where are you now?”  _ His Dad questioned.

 

“San Francisco,” Stiles answered, “I guess Henry told everyone.”

 

_ “You’re part of a supernatural pack, you are a valued part of the pack, you know that,”  _ Noah spoke, his tone becoming serious

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said leant forward, chewing his nails and tears running down his cheeks.

 

_ “I’m trying to find a way to understand, Stiles. How are you going to to talk to Malia?”  _ Noah quizzed,  _ “You’re human. How can you talk to her?”  _

 

“I’ve found a way, but, well it’s gonna hurt. Emotionally.” Stiles cried, “I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

 

_ “You better be,”  _ Noah sighed,  _ “I love you, Stiles. Please come back safely.” _

 

“I love you, Dad. Bye,” he hung up, placing the phone on the table. He wiped the tears out of his eyes as a waitress walked over, she was only in her early thirties, with a roundish face with a perfect complexion with dark locks tied back in a bobble. 

 

“You okay, honey?” Her thick-American accent asked, Stiles looked up, “Oh my. You’re that kid that ran away. You’re face was all over the news.”

 

“Yeah. Hey,” Stiles waved, “well, I’ve been found now. So I’m fine.”

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she smiled sadly, “If I can say. I lost my husband in a car accident,” Stiles went to say something, but she cut him off, “sometimes you can to think of all the things you never said to them, but that hurts like hell.”

 

“If you could say those words, would you?” Stiles asked, the waitress sat down opposite him.

 

“Yes.” She nodded, “but it’s impossible, sweetie. The car accident was just outside Beacon County, I was in it too, but I was fine. It was too icy and well, the road was closed, but we were late home and he thought it would be okay to drive across.”

  
“I live in Beacon Hills.” Stiles commented, “those roads are horrible, I crashed once, but I had concussion.”

 

“We used to go to Beacon Hills to visit my Aunt, we were heading home, I’m just stupid for not making him drive around.” She shook her head, “but you couldn’t have saved your girlfriend, what was her name again?”

  
“Malia. Malia Tate.” He answered, “She was phenomenally beautiful, on the inside and the out.”

 

“I bet she was. Okay, honey, what do you want to eat or drink?” She asked hopping up.

 

“Just fries and a cola, please.” Stiles beamed, she nodded skipping back behind the counter; his eyes trailed over to a figure sat at the bar, a woman in a blue torn hoodie, with a complexion paler than Stiles’s, her piercing green eyes clocked on him, she smirked, turning back to her fries. After Stiles was served his food and he spent a further half an hour talking to the waitress about Malia and her husband, Andy; he kept a eye on the woman at the counter. When the waitress bid him goodbye and gave him his food on the house, the woman stood up, sitting opposite Stiles, “You spying on me?”

  
The woman took her hood off, “ Technically, yes. Nice to meet you Stiles Stilinski. I think you’ve been looking for my Dad.” 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

The woman’s statement lingered in the air, Stiles retracted back in his seat, “Your Dad?”

 

“Yeah. That’s why you came to San Francisco, right? To find the only remaining Druid alive with magic.” She chorused, grinning up at him; she watched his face light up, “yes, I’m his daughter and he’s been waiting for a member of the McCall pack for a long while. He first sensed you when Erica Reyes passed on and since then, he’s been in love with you lot. Your loyalty and love for one another. Druids with powers pick up on connection and he says your pack is one of the closest bonds he has ever felt between people not related by blood.”

 

“Blood is blood. You can have perfect parents who take care of you, but some children are ladened with abusive parents. Blood isn’t family. Love is family.” Stiles told her.

 

“True,” she nodded, “Your connection with Scott McCall is unbelievable and your connection with Malia Tate was so tender. All my Dad has eve wanted to do was meet you.”

 

“Can I see her? I want to see Malia.” Stiles said, his voice full of hope and optimism for the first time in forever.

 

“Yes, you can see her,” she nodded.

 

“Really?” He asked, tears falling down his cheeks, “though, how do I know that this isn’t a trick and you’re a murderer or something?”

 

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” She shrugged, “but on the record, I’ve never kidnapped or killed anyone.”

 

“Okay. What the hell have I got to be worried about? I’ve been kidnapped a handful of times before.” Stiles jumped up, “Let’s go.”

  
“This way,” she gestured, “we can leave your car here!” She shouted back as they exited the cafe, as she unlocked another car close to Stiles’s and clambered in the front seat, he sat by her side, in the passenger's seat.

 

“What about my suitcase?” He quizzed.

 

“We can return for it later,” she told him, pulling onto the main road, “My Dad will help you, I promise you that, but he tends to make huge speeches before getting to the point, you’ll have to just go along with it.” 

  
“Yeah, of course. I’d listen to him for years if it meant I get to see her again.” Stiles exclaimed.

 

“Be careful what you wish for.” She commented, “My name’s Diana, by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you Diana,” Stiles beamed.

 

“Right back at you, Stiles Stilinski.”


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

Stiles had watched plenty of movies about witchcraft, but when they pulled up outside Diana’s house, all the stereotypes he had pictured disappeared. She didn’t live in the middle of the woods surrounded by heads mounted on spikes, the ground wasn’t covered in layers of skulls or other human remains. The windows weren’t boarded up with cardboard. Instead, it was a modern house, white in colour; windows covered the front of the house, letting in the bright sun light. It was located in a nice neighbourhood where Stiles could see children riding on their bikes and having fun together. It was nothing like Beacon Hills, where parents were scared to let their children out at night.

 

“Let me guess, you were expecting some underground hovel?”  Diane asked as she watched Stiles gorp at the house.

 

“No.” He answered too quickly, “It’s just beautiful.” She pushed the door open, stepping aside to let Stiles walk in.

 

“Mummy!” A young voice sang, Stiles turned to see a boy charging towards Diane, he was no older than three; he jumped up and Diane picked him up. Unlike his mother, his skin was tanned and his eyes were dark brown.

 

“Hey Ollie,” she kissed his cheek, “say hello to Stiles.”

 

“Hello Stiles,” the boy waved.

  
“Where’s your Dad?” She questioned, she walked off, Stiles trailing close behind, “Hey honey.” They entered the kitchen, her husband was the spitting image of his son, “This is Stiles.”

 

“Hello Stiles,” he walked over, holding his hand out, shaking the boy’s hand, “I’m Arthur.”

 

“Pleasure.” Stiles beamed, his eyes trailing over to Diane; her cheeks now had a turned faded pink as she smiled at her son, she placed the children down on the ground, he waddled off to his Dad.

 

“Stiles, come on, you want to meet my Dad, right?” Diane gestured, Stiles followed up to the staircase that seemed to go down to a basement, “don’t worry, this isn’t one of those creepy basements where sacrifices are made,” she mocked, Stiles chuckled.

 

“So Diane….do you have magic?” Stiles questioned as she clicked the door open and started to walk down.

 

“No. I am a druid though,” she answered, “sadly magic is sexist, only males can have powers and most of the time, it’s so watered down in centuries that it doesn’t pass on. My son won’t have powers because his Dad is human. If my husband was a werewolf, werecoyote, kitsune or banshee, than Ollie might have inherited the gene.” 

 

“So your Dad is the last Druid with magic, ever?” Stiles asked.

  
“He thinks so,” she cracked the door open, it led into a converted basement, that had it’s own bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, the sun was still beaming through upper windows, “Dad!”

 

A man, in his late seventies, stepped out from the kitchen, “Mieczysław Stilinski!” He exclaimed, striding over. 

 

“He’s a hugger,” Diane coughed, Stiles went to ask her to repeat the statement when her Father picked the young boy up in a tight grasp.

 

“Wow!” Stiles shouted, “you’re strong,” the druid lowered the boy, beaming at him.

 

“I’m Graham.” He grinned, Stiles raised his eyebrows; the man was dressed in genes and a shirt, like any normal human being, Stiles had so much information thrown at him at once, that he didn’t know what to do with it. “Okay, Diane, I think I can handle him now.”

 

“Don’t blow out all the electrics again.” Diane warned, heading up stairs, closing the door. 

 

“I will do what I like, right?” Graham asked; the only stereotypical ‘ _ wizard,’ _ feature Stiles could pick up was the man’s dark grey beard that trailed down just below his neck, like Dumbledore in Harry Potter. “You looked petrified, son.”

  
“Sorry, your daughter said I can talk to Malia. The girl I lost.” Stiles sniffled, “and it only just hit me.”

 

“That’s okay and, don’t want to panic you more, but you won’t just be talking to her. You will be able to see her as well.”  Graham said, tapping Stiles’s shoulder; he trailed over to a table, sitting down, Stiles shuffled over, taking a seat. 

 

“How long will I have to talk to her?” Stiles asked.

  
“As long as you want,” Graham told him, Stiles’s eyebrow rose up, face flushing of colour, “within reason. You need to remember, spirits do not belong on Earth, they belong in their space, the space that only a few of the living have the ability to hear.”

 

“Lydia.” Stiles mumbled.

  
“Yes, Banshees,” Graham sighed, “I feel bad for them.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” 

 

“I have power to give you years with her, but remember you age, she never will again. My wife died just after my daughter was born.” Graham lamented.

 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles comforted.

 

“I brought her back, just so she could see her daughter grow up, but she became lost, my wife, confused in the life of the living, confined to one house. I went insane, never working, I nearly got Diane taken off me. So I had to let my wife go. It’s easy to let them in, but it’s hard to let them go again.” Graham explained, “I have a deal to make with you.”

 

“Anything.” Stiles nodded.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours with Malia,” Graham began, “and then I will face both of you with the hardest question that any human being will ever be faced with.”

 

“What question?” Stiles asked.

 

“I will say it to both of you at the same time. You both need the same amount of time to think.” Graham outstretched his hand taking Stiles’s, “the only way I can bring her back is with a connection, but I’m sorry, son, even though your connection with her is enough to tear the universe in half. It won’t be enough to tear reality from the spirit world. When I brought my wife here, I made sure all her loved ones were thinking about her, all at once. At her funeral.”

 

“So, more than one person with a connection to her. No matter how small. Should help bring her back?” Stiles jumped up, “Do you have a laptop?” 

 

“Yes,” Graham stood up taking out a laptop and placing it in front of Stiles, he lived the lid up and went to work, “Can I ask what you are doing?”

  
“Setting a timer,” Stiles looked up, “one moment in time, everyone who loved Malia needs to be thinking about Malia. Both her Dad's, little Malia Connors, her uncles, her aunts, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, even Liam Dunbar and Jordan Parrish.” He picked up his phone, typing a group text to everyone, he soon got replies, “When can you do it?”

 

“Whenever the connection is strong enough.” Graham told him.

 

“Okay,” Stiles clicked on the laptop, opening Skype. He then started a group video link, with everyone; one was Henry Tate with Malia’s Aunt, Andrea; another was Scott and Kira, another was Lydia and Parrish and the last was Peter, Derek and Cora, “Hey guys!” All of them started talking all at once with different questions and remarks, “Shush!” He exclaimed, all of them shut up and turned their attention to him, “Wait, Scott, where’s Liam and Hayden?”

 

“ _ Hayden’s sister took them out of town with Corey and Mason, don’t think they have reception, sorry.”  _ Scott commented, “ _ but it’s good to see you _ .”

 

_ “Good to see you too,”  _ Stiles beamed, “ _ all of you. Even you Peter. _ ” 

 

_ “Have you spoken to her yet?”  _ Peter asked, his voice sent chills down Andrea and Henry’s spine, Stiles watched them react, he gave them a comforting stare.

 

“No, not yet.” Stiles stated, “Actually, I need all of your help. Henry and Andrea, you have a slightly upper hand in all of this, you knew Malia when she was a baby, you watched her grow up.”

 

_ “Yes, we did,”  _ Henry smiled,  _ “She was such a bubbly child.” _

 

_ “You must be Henry,” _ Peter remarked, Stiles rolled his eyes,  _ “Peter. Peter Hale.” _

 

_ “Yeah, she told me about you. Look, I get that you're biologically related to her, but she was my daughter. She valued the surname Tate over Hale.”  _ Henry snapped, everyone looked away from the camera, worrying about what statement Peter would come up with.

 

_ “Thank you,” _ was not what anyone expected him to say, but he said it, “ _ she was trying to get to know me, but I am still the man who nearly killed her best friends, kidnapped her boyfriend, before they met, I should add. I wasn’t a role model, she wouldn’t even call me Dad, because I wasn’t. So thank you. _ ” 

 

_ “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Peter Hale?”  _ Lydia questioned, they all laughed.

 

_ “I killed the people who murdered her. Every single one of them and it doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse.”  _ Peter sighed,  _ “Because she wouldn’t want that.”  _

 

_ “Peter, I know you have a massive speech, but maybe we should ask Stiles what he needs,”  _ Cora butt in.

  
_ “Oh yeah,”  _ Peter sighed, _ “What did you want?”  _

 

“In order to talk to Malia, tell her all the things you lot want me to tell her,” Stiles stopped, “We have to open the barrier, between this world and the next, a barrier only broken by Banshees, like you Lydia. But this one is different, it requires a strong connection with the spirit.”

  
_ “Your connection with Malia is unbreakable, shouldn’t it be enough?”  _ Scott questioned.

 

“No, it needs all of you. Henry, Andrea, try and get the kids to think about her too, all of them but I think Lia the most.” Stiles told them, they both nodded, “but this has to be at the same time. We’re all in different times zones and at one moment, today, we all need to go silent and think about Malia Tate. No matter how small the memory, think about it. The biggest memory you have with her and just concentrate on it.”

 

“ _ I think we can all do that. _ ” Kira said,  _ “I mean we all loved her, that’s what all of us have in common, right?” _

 

_ “Hell yes!”  _ Lydia exclaimed,  _ “How can you not love Malia Tate?” _

 

“What time though Stiles?” _ Derek asked. _

 

“I’ve sent you all a link to a timer for ten minutes, as soon as it hits zero, stop and think.” He smiled, “and if I can, I’ll call with Malia Tate.” 

 

_ “Oh come on,”  _ Parrish started _ , “this pack, all these people, you could tear universes apart. Of course we can do this. ”  _

 

“Okay guys, time to think about Malia.” 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be flashbacks of Malia, but I have chosen to write only "canon" character flashbacks and not the characters I have invented.

**Lydia Martin -** **_One Year Earlier_ **

 

“I’m not letting you leave!” Malia’s voice bellowed, she was sat in front of Lydia and Parrish’s car, which the pack were moving suitcases into the back; they all laughed at Malia’s actions. Lydia had called them to help packing for their flight and move to London, but Malia had arrived and remained sat in front of their car, so her best friend wouldn’t fly away. 

 

“Malia, it’s been three hours!” Lydia chorused, skipping over and placing a rucksack in the back seats, “and we need to be on the road in half an hour.”

 

“You’re not going.” Malia stated; Stiles walked out of the house holding a box and talking to Parrish, Lydia watched Malia clock onto her ex and mumble under breath, “why does everyone leave?” Lydia chest suddenly felt an unbearable push of dread and hurt.

 

“Boys, can I have five minutes with her?” Lydia questioned, Parrish and Stiles backtracked into the house, closing the door; Lydia knelt in front of her friend, “I’m moving to London. Not dying and you’re still one of my best friends, you know that, right? I’m not leaving forever, we’re going to see each other all the time, Malia. We can skype every day, if you like.”

 

“I can’t lose everyone,” Malia sniffled, tears forming in her eyes.

 

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart,” Lydia told her, Malia looked up, bloodshot eyes, “You will never lose me, ever. I love you, Malia Tate and whenever you need to call me up to talk about how bad life is, or how heartbroken you are about  _ someone,  _ I will always, always listen to what you have to say.”

 

“Lydia, I love you too, but I still can’t let you go.” Malia sobbed, “Everyone’s going. Everyone and I’m just staying put, everything’s moving and I’m stood still.”

 

“Oh, no. Malia Tate, she’s a hero. Name from a fairytale, with no end. You will be fantastic, I know that.” Lydia remarked, “I’ve always known. Ah, can't picture my life without you and I wouldn’t want to, but I have to go and aspire in the next stage of my life.”

  
“With Jordan Parrish,” Malia giggled.

 

“With Jordan Parrish, yes.” Lydia chuckled, “I know that you deserve someone to love and maybe, love will come back.” 

 

“Yeah, when they promise they won’t leave, you’d expect them to come back.” Malia cried, Lydia pushed up, planting a kiss on her friend’s forehead, before guiding her up off the ground, “Good luck in London.”

 

“I’m rubbish at goodbye, but hey,” she wiped tears from her eyes, “Can’t wait to spend Christmas with you, all of you are coming to London, we might actually see snow.”

 

“That would be nice.” Malia beamed, “I’m gonna miss you.”

 

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Lydia grinned.

 

**Kira Yukimura -** **_Six Months Earlier_ **

 

“Kira! Kira!” Malia’s voice screamed, she burst through Kira’s bedroom door, Kira took her headphones off, shaking her head to flatten her hair.

  
“Malia?” Kira quizzed, “how the hell…”

  
“I called you!” Malia charged forward grabbing her friend’s hand, “come on! You need to see this.” She charged downstairs, clasping tightly onto her friend’s hand.

  
“Wait, how did you get in?” Kira asked, “Wait, what are you even doing here? Did Scott let you in?” Scott and Kira lived in there own rented flat near UC Davis, where they both attended, but Malia went to Beacon Hills College which was an hour away. “When did you get here?”

 

“I drove as soon as I saw it!” Malia exclaimed, smiling. 

 

“Saw what?” Kira asked. 

 

“The sky!” Malia called back, they got to the front door, “close your eyes.” She opened the door and guided her friend out, “I tried phoning you, to make you look outside, but you didn’t answer. I knew you couldn’t miss this! So I drove over.”

 

“You drove an hour at eleven at night to show me the sky?” Kira quizzed, “what’s so important about the sky?”

 

“Open your eyes,” Malia said, her fingers still tightly wrapped around her friends; Kira gasped, stepping back, “It’s purple. It’s something to do with the weather and some other shit, I didn’t really listen to Stiles, we were on the phone when I noticed it and he lectured me about it.”

 

The sky was a bright luxurious violet, with a few white clouds darted around and there were countless amounts of stars, all separated perfectly apart, “You always said your favourite colour was purple and now the sky is.” 

 

“You drove all the way, so I could look at a purple sky?” Kira sniffled, tears forming in her eyes.

  
“Why are you crying?” Malia asked, concerned.

 

Kira chuckled, “the fact you don’t know makes it better. Not all the friends in the world would drive an hour to inform their friend that the sky was suddenly their favourite colour. Oh god, I love you, you’re so sweet and innocent.”

 

“Well, I love ya, you deserved to see this,” Malia said, looking up at the sky, “It’s really beautiful.” 

 

“Yeah, it is.” Kira beamed, “Amazing. See I was watching shows on Netflix and my phone is dead, I would have never heard you.” 

 

“Where’s Scott?” Malia asked.

  
“If Scott didn’t let you in, how did you get in?” Kira cross-questioned.

 

“Claws are good at picking locks.” Malia remarked.

 

“Scott’s probably passed out on the couch,” they both walked to the door, they listened.

 

“Yeah, he is.” Malia nodded, “I can hear him snoring.”

 

“He does that a lot.” Kira laughed.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Scott McCall -** **_A Little Over A Year Ago_ **

 

“Why did we even come to Prom?” Malia asked, she was stood over Scott, dressed in a little blue jumpsuit with her hair pinned back into a bun, “Stiles is in DC taking summer classes and Kira’s parents took her to Italy for her present. So it’s just us,” she said pointing to herself and Scott, who was sat down at a table dressed in a suit,  “the kissing pair over there,” she pointed over to Liam and Hayden, “ the pair moving to London in two weeks,” she gestured to Parrish and Lydia who were dancing, “and Corey and Mason, who disappeared a long time ago.” 

 

“Yeah, they do that,” Scott laughed, “this is a bit boring.”

  
“You’re telling me!” She exclaimed,  “and their music taste is horrible.”  Scott grinned, “What?” Malia asked, he started laughing, “stop doing that!” She said, lightly slapping his shoulder.

 

“Sorry, Sorry,” Scott chuckled, “come on.” He stood up, holding out his hand, “I’ll dance with you.” 

 

“Uh, okay,” Malia rolled her eyes, “such a gentleman.”

 

“Hey, I wouldn’t let you hate this prom alone. We have to hate this prom together.” Scott mocked, they both travelled to the dance floor, “look, we can do this.”

 

“Both of us are crap at dancing,” Malia mumbled.

 

“At least we can be crap together.” Scott winked, Malia laughed, but then nervously looked down at her feet, “Lia? What’s wrong?”

 

“Everything’s changing. Everything and everyone.” She sniffled, “Stiles is 2,000 miles away. You and Kira will be an hour away. Lydia and Parrish will be an ocean away. I’m just still here, not leaving.”

 

“Ha, it doesn’t matter,” he remarked, she looked up at him, “no matter how far apart we are, we’re still a pack and we have a future ahead of us that we never pictured getting to.”

 

“The safety of Beacon Hills in my hands, plus the kissing couple and the couple that disappears,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to see if she could see them, “nowhere,” she stumbled back, but Scott caught her, “thank you.” 

 

“No problem.” Scott giggled, “you’re gonna be fine, Malia Tate, I promise,” he said, is head tilting into his shoulder. 

 

“You’re such an adorkable puppy, aren’t you?”  She quizzed.

  
“Adorkable?” Scott questioned.

 

“Dork and adorable,” Malia explained, “sums you up in two words.”

 

“Hey!” Scott grinned, “what about you?”

 

“Nothing can sum me up in two words,” Malia smiled, “I’m too complex,” she joked.

 

“What about kindsty?” Scott asked.

 

“What does kindsty mean?” Malia snorted.

 

“Kind and feisty.” Scott answered, Malia beamed, turning Scott around in the dance, “hey! That’s my job.”

 

“Hey. Let’s not stereotype gender roles, here.” Malia cackled, “I never said  _ Thank You _ .”

  
“For what?” Scott asked.

 

“For saving me in the woods.” Malia answered, “Thank you, Scott McCall.”

 

“Thank you, Malia Tate. You helped me control the Alpha inside of me.” Scott leant forward, planting a kiss on her cheek.

 

**Jordan Parrish -** **_A Little Over A Year Ago_ **

 

“I found a flat!” Lydia shouted charging in through into the Sheriff station, Parrish jumped out of his chair, taking her into an embrace, “well, I didn’t, my Mum did. But it’s a bus ride away from my university and is right next to the police station you’ll be working at.”

 

“That’s amazing. I was scared we’d never find anywhere.” Parrish laughed.

 

“Okay, sorry, I know I’m not meant to burst in while you’re working.” Lydia laughed, planting a kiss on his cheek, “see you later.” She skipped off, cheering, as Parrish took a seat back down. A few minutes went by and Parrish felt a person looming over him; he looked up to see Malia, she looked uncomfortable, out of place. Her face was bloodless, she was shaking on the spot, she had her fingers linked together, fidgeting them. 

 

“Malia?” He stood up, walking towards her, “Malia?” 

 

“Yeah,” she took in a deep breath, “Yes. Sorry, have you seen Lydia?”

 

“You just missed her. Are you okay?” He questioned, placing a hand on her shoulder; she shook, trying to stop herself from crying, “hey,” he guided her into an the Sheriff’s empty office, she trailed away leaning into the desk. “Malia, what’s wrong?”

  
“It’s nothing, really,” she sniffled, chuckling fakely, “I sometimes have bad dreams and I talk to Lydia about them.”

 

“It must have been really bad if you’ve been looking for her.” Parrish answered.

 

She turned around, “Yeah. Well, she left her phone at mine,” she said taking it out and placing it in Parrish’s hands, “so I went looking for her instead and I couldn’t find her.”

 

“You’re pretty shaken up about it,” he said, walking over, planting a hand on her shoulder, “and you’re freezing.” Malia was dressed in denim shorts and a overhanging electric blue top with spaghetti straps.

 

“Well, I have been running around looking for Lydia all night,” Malia laughed nervously.

 

“Give me a second,” Parrish exited, walking back holding onto his jacket, Malia blinked; tears teasing down her cheeks, he walked over wrapping it around her, “What was the dream about Malia?” He asked, guiding her into a seat and kneeling down in front of her.

 

“The Desert Wolf.” Malia cried, looking at him, “coming back and killing everyone I love most. My Dad, Henry that is, not Peter. Stiles, Lydia, Kira, Cora, Derek, Scott, I saw her tearing them apart and me being unable to save them.  She even killed you, so I was all alone, I had nothing left.” She bawled, “I know Argent always reassures me that where she is now, she’ll never escape, but she still nearly killed Stiles and Braeden. She killed my Mum and my sister. I’m scared of her Parrish.”

  
“You have a right to be scared.” Parrish told her, “everyone has the right to be scared of something” 

 

“Where’s Noah?” Malia asked.

 

“He went to pick Stiles up from the airport.” Parrish told her, “he’s coming back for two weeks before his real course starts.”

 

“Oh yeah.” Malia smiled sadly, “Parrish, I could never see him hurt and everyone else.” She broke down, “I don’t want to be alone.” Jordan stepped forward, taking her into a hug; she cried into his chest as he kept a loving grip on her. Seconds later, the door cracked open, Noah and Stiles walking in, their smiles fading.

 

_ ‘She’s okay.’  _ Parrish mouthed to Stiles,  _ ‘She had a bad dream.’  _ Stiles nodded, walking over, Parrish guided the crying girl into the arms of her first love, where she stayed comfortably; Parrish smiled, knowing his work was done. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Henry Tate -** **_Sixteen Years Ago_ **

 

“Daddy!” Four-Year-Old Malia was sat on her Dad’s foot as he tried to walk across the living room floor, “I don’t want to meet her! Take her away!” She burst out crying, her Mother walked out of the kitchen, holding onto a newborn baby, who was dressed in a plain white babygrow; she chuckled at her eldest daughter, Henry looked at her, shaking his head.

 

“Malia Elizabeth Tate,” Henry bent down, picking her up and tickling her until her tears were replaced by laughter, “you’re sister isn’t going to replace you, I promise. She’s your sister, now are you going to meet her?”

 

“Okay.” She cooed, Henry walked her over to her Mum and little sister, “see.” Malia looked at baby Kylie for a moment.

 

“She’s real cute,” she remarked, “can I cuddle her?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Henry smiled, “let’s sit you down first,” he carried her to couch, playing her down, “okay, ready for the first impression?” 

 

“Always.” Evelyn bent down placing the sleeping baby into her big sister’s arms; Henry sat next to them, making sure Kylie’s head was supported. “What do you think, Malia?”

 

“Shush, Mum. She’s sleeping.” Malia said, her forehead cease; her tone slightly angry, “you have to be quiet.”

 

“Okay, I’m quiet.” Evelyn whispered, “I’ll put the dinner on.” She said, walking out.

 

“Hey Dad,” Malia said, quietly, “is Kylie staying with us forever?”

 

“Yes, she’s your little sister and you’re her big sister.” Henry explained. 

 

“So I have to teach her things,” Malia beamed, Henry nodded, “I have so much to tell her! I have to tell her about Santa and the easter bunny!” She exclaimed, over excited. 

 

“You happy about having a little sister, now?” Henry quizzed.

  
“Yes! I love her.” Malia grinned, her Dad was taken back by the statement, ‘I love you,’ was something Malia only said when someone said it first or got her to say it. He sensed how genuine it was when Malia spoke of her baby sister. “Dad, why are you crying?”

 

“Oh no reason honey. It’s happy crying.” Henry smiled.

 

“I didn't know you cry when you’re happy.” Malia stated.

 

“Oh, only when you’re really happy.”

 

**Derek Hale -** **_19 Years Ago_ **

 

“Mum! We can’t do this!” Twelve-year-old Laura Hale exclaimed, “We both know that Peter needs her! She might make him a better person.”

 

“I know my brother Laura, sweetheart.” Talia said placing her hand on her young daughter's cheek, “he’s only fifteen and he has a daughter, with a woman that will stop at nothing to kill her.”

 

“Mum. I remember the day you brought Cora home for the first time,” Laura began, “the smile on your face, it was like his, when he was holding her. Are you gonna take that away from him? Uncle Peter is strange and rude, weird, he might go insane if you take her away.”

 

“It’s for both their protection.” Talia explained, “I know a day will come when we will all have this baby in our lives again.”

 

“Peter won’t cope with this.” Laura cried.

 

“He won’t remember, I’m wiping his mind.” Talia sniffled, “of ever having a child.”

 

“Somehow that’s worse,” the young teenager told her Mum, “Derek loves her, isn’t that enough for her to stay?” 

 

“No, I’m sorry.” Talia walked away, “Peter! Can I borrow you a moment?”

Laura sighed, walking into the living room; eleven-year-old Derek Hale was sat crossed legged on the couch, bottle feeding a small newborn baby. He had tears running down the brim of his nose, breaking off at his cheek, “My Mum, your Aunt,  is going to find you a safe place to grow up. You’re gonna have an amazing life.” He sniffled, “even if I’m not there.”

 

“Oh Derek,” Laura’s eyes laid on five month old Cora, who was fast asleep in her cot, she walked over, taking a seat next to Derek, “I can’t change Mum’s mind. Sorry about that.” 

 

“It’s okay. Malia deserves a better life than both her parents could give her,” Derek said wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

 

“Malia?” Laura questioned.

  
“Yeah, it’s what I called her, do you her new parents will keep it?” Derek sobbed, holding tightly onto his cousin, “I want her to stay, Laura.”

 

“I know,” she reached forward, kissing his forehead, “we’ll see her again. I know we will.” Laura looked up, seeing her Mum in the corridor holding a baby carrier. 

 

“Mum!” She burst out, “where are you going to take her?”

 

“You know Henry Tate. Your old tutor. Him and his wife can’t have children,” Talia started, “They will be the best parents to her.”

  
  


“Okay, give us a few more minutes,” Laura burst back in, taking a piece of paper and pen from the table.

 

“Laura, what are you doing?” Derek asked.

 

“Leaving a note for her new family.” Laura smiled, she held it up, it read,  _ ‘her name is Malia.’   _ Derek beamed, tears falling down his cheeks.

 

“Kids, it’s time!” Talia called; Derek stood up, his cousin burst into tears.

 

“Shush, Malia. Save them for later,” Derek said softly, “We’ll find you again.” He walked into the corridor, laying her back into the car seat; Laura slipped the note into the car seat next to Malia as she clipped the seat together, “make sure they take care of her.” Derek held his breath, taking his sister’s hand; as his Mum picked the car seat up, he broke down charging off up the stairs, his fingers separating from Laura’s as he ran up. 

 

“Well done Mum,” Laura spat, bolting after her brother.

  
  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Peter Hale -** **_One Year Ago_ **

 

Peter darted through the pouring rain, cursing the fact that they seemed to be the only town in California that kept getting torrential rain. He opened his car boot, placing his shopping in the back and fumbling for the roof, “Shopping, Peter? Not like you. Very normal.” A familiar voice came from from over head, he slammed the boot close.

 

“Malia.” He paced forward, “do you not mind the rain?” He asked, gesturing to her; she was not wearing a coat, she had black jeans on, with a grey and white flannel, all her clothes were clinging onto her skin.

 

“Not really,” she smiled, “When I was coyote, I learnt to get used to it. It’s quite peaceful,” she said, looking up, “Deaton told me we get so much rain because of the supernatural disturbance or whatever that means. I wouldn’t be here if my car wasn’t broken.” 

 

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Peter questioned.

 

“My Dad sent me to pick up some milk,” she beamed, “then I’m going for a sleepover with Cora and Derek.” She watched his face drop, “Hey, Peter. We all think you’re doing well, becoming someone knew. Having counselling sessions with Marin Morrell must have really paid off. I mean like two years ago, you wanted power and now all you want is redemption.” She walked over, bumping his shoulder with hers, “You’re doing well. Even Scott thinks so, Stiles not so much, but he’s Stiles,” she snorted, he laughed along with her, “but if you do turn bad, I’ll snap you in half.”

 

“You’d have the right to.” Peter watched Malia shiver, “okay, get in, if I’m going to start being a Dad, I can’t let you walk the entire way home in the rain.” 

 

“Okay, as Dad qualities go, that’s not that bad,” she giggled, clambering into the passenger seat, “if Peter Hale is legally dead? What name do you go by?” She asked as he climbed in, he took out an ID card and passed it over.

 

“Ian Bohen,” she chuckled, “did Stiles help you create this?” 

 

“Yes, yes he did,” Peter pulled out the car park, “where do you live?”

 

“Sandwell road, the only house on there, really.” Malia grinned, “do you have your memories back?”

  
“What?” Peter asked.

  
“Have they resurfaced yet? Memories of me as a newborn? I mean Derek has told me what he remembers.” Malia beamed.

 

“No.” He answered, bluntly.

 

“Liar.” Malia said, smile fading, looking outside.

 

“How could you know that I’m lying?” Peter quizzed.

 

“You pull the same face I do.” Malia chuckled, “when I lie.”   
  


“I think I remember the day you were born, in the Hale household. The Desert Wolf was a lunatic, more than me, but she wanted you. She was seventeen, two years older than me. After you were born, she passed out and Talia handed you to me in a blind panic,” Peter sighed, “I was still a teenager, no idea how important this tiny soul was in my arms, then you grabbed my finger. Next minute I find out your Mum thinks you took her strength, it turned her insane, postnatal depression pushed along with supernatural abilities. She wanted you dead, you weren’t safe. They took you away from me.”

 

“And wiped your memory.” Malia added.

 

“Yeah, it’s taken months for that to resurface. I think if we’d been happy, then maybe I wouldn’t have done such terrible things.” Peter remarked.

 

“For all it’s worth, you’re turning back the clock and becoming a better person now. Better late than never.”

 

**Cora Hale -** **_Just under three years ago._ **

 

“She might hate me,” Cora listed as she got ready for her first meeting with her cousin, Malia Tate.

  
“She won’t!” Braden called from the other room, bursting out, “she’ll love you. Isn’t that right, Derek?” She asked, turning back to her boyfriend, who was still topless and brushing his teeth, he shrugged his shoulders, “bloody useless, go and put a shirt on, for Christ Sake!” He walked into the bathroom, spitting out; he walked back out putting on a grey shirt, “that’s better,” she took him into a kiss.

 

“Malia’s dating Stiles, right?” Cora asked.

 

“Yep.” Derek chorused, “they’re so cute together.” 

 

A knock came from the door, “I’ll get it!” Cora skipped over.

 

“She is normally blunt and stroppy, what’s going on?” Braeden questioned.

 

“She’s about to meet the only other surviving Hale female, she’s very excited.” Derek beamed.

 

Cora opened the front door, “Stilinski!” Stood in front of her was Stiles, dressing in jeans, sneakers and a plain white shirt with a black rim going around the collar. 

 

“Hale!” He shouted back, “sorry, Malia will be with us shortly, she’s just trying to untrap her jacket from the car door, she told me to make ourselves known.”

 

“I can help her,” Cora stepped out, “men, so useless!”

 

“You can say that again.” Malia’s voice shouted, Cora ran over, “Nice to meet you Cora.”

 

“How did this even happen?” Cora asked, studying the scene in front of her; Malia’s jacket and shirt were closed in the the door. “Can you just open it?”

 

“We’ve tried!” Stiles shouted, “it won’t budge.”

 

“Yeah, this Jeep is ridiculous.” Malia shook her head, “two supernatural creatures should be able to get this off though.”

 

“Yes,” both girls held the handle and pulled back, they stumbled back, falling onto the ground, laughing hysterically. “Lovely way to meet you cus!” 

 

“Right back at you, Cora!” Malia laughed.

 

“Okay, talking about the Jeep,” Cora whispered, “does Stiles still talk to it and stroke the outside like it’s alive?”

 

Malia howled out in fits of laughter, holding her stomach, “Oh my god! Yes, yes. He does! All the time. Sometimes I think he loves it more than me!” Both girls’ chuckled, holding their stomachs because they were laughing so much it hurt, the best kind of laugh, a real laugh. Cackling about Stiles Stilinski. 

 

Stiles darted over, “You both okay?” Malia pointed at him, looking at Cora and giggling, “What? Why are you laughing?” Cora took Malia’s hand and they both got off the ground, they took one look at Stiles and they were gone again, “What? Stop it!”

 

“It’s okay,” Malia walked over, kissing him; Cora smiled at them, “Come on Cora, I want you to catch me up on everything!” She said running up the path.

 

“Yeah,” she ran to her cousin, taking her arm and whispering into her ear, Malia’s head went flying back.

 

“Stiles, why don’t you spend time with the Jeep?” Cora called back.

 

“Yeah, hahahaha.” Stiles mocked.

 

“No seriously, balancing two lovers is hard!!” Malia snorted.

 

“I do not love the Jeep!” He exclaimed.

 

“Wait for it…” Malia whispered, she gestured and they both turned back to see Stiles mouthing to the Jeep,  _ ‘I do.’ _

 

“Caught red handed!” Cora laughed, “oh, Malia, we’re going to have so much fun.” 

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

**Stiles Stilinski - Just Over Two Years Ago**

 

“I hate Lydia!” Malia Tate exclaimed as she walked into Junior Prom clinging onto Stiles’s arm; she was dressed in a strapless lavender dress that stopped just before her knees joined with black high heels. 

  
“No you don’t!” Her friend exclaimed from behind.

 

“She made me wear a dress,” Malia spat, turning to Stiles, “A dress!” She shouted, “I don’t know how she did it! She suggested it, I said no and then suddenly we were in a dress shop buying damn dresses!”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Stiles chuckled, holding his arm around her shoulders, “for all it’s worth, you look amazing! Gorgeous even! But hey, you look beautiful everyday, so…” She smiled, bumping his shoulder, “What?” 

 

“You’re such a flirt Stiles.” Malia giggled. 

 

“Flirt may be the wrong word. I mean we’re together, right?” Stiles quizzed.

  
“Of course we are.” She stood on her tiptoes, they were in a queue of other couples, groups of boys and girls without dates and the singles. Scott, Kira and Lydia had turned up late, so they went together; Lydia still hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask Parrish out. “Nearly there.” She turned to him, wiping his shoulder.

 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

 

“You had some dust on it.” She explained.

 

“Wow, you need to stop spending nights with Lydia and Kira.” Stiles beamed, they reached the end; where they were taking pictures. Malia worried about the flash, knowing it would trigger her eyes and ruin the photo’s memory. She timed the ticks as the photographer clicked down, she turned, closing her eyes and planting a kiss on Stiles’s cheek, her arm was around his back and his was around hers. They both hopped down, “Well timed, Mal. Come on!” They both darted off into the hall.

 

Stiles span her around, keeping his hands wrapped gently around her wrists and she swung back and span; they both chuckled, Malia drew herself in and she lay her head on his shoulder, “hey, it’s good we practised in your room.” Malia remarked, “or we’d be lost.” 

 

“Dancing to Beauty and the Beast really does pay off,” Stiles muttered back, “Everything’s so perfect right now. You’re perfect.”

 

“Oh my GOD. You are so cheesy, but that’s why I love ya!” Malia drew him into a kiss, her happiness not even noticing that she had just said three words to Stiles, that they hadn’t spoken to one another yet. The fact she was so calm about it, relaxed Stiles and he realised, maybe the words didn’t have the meaning he grew up thinking. Maybe, they were just simply words. Words that required actions.

 

“I love you too,” Stiles giggled, pressing his forehead against hers as they swayed from side to side. “Now come on, we need to regroup!” He took her hand, charging over to Lydia, Scott and Kira as they ran in.

 

“You three need to lighten up!” Malia sang, “This is fun!” She jumped onto Stiles’s back, they all heard her dress tear; Lydia faced palmed and Malia bit her bottom lip, “Sorry,” Stiles took his jacket off, wrapping it around Malia’s waist, “Thank you, boyfriend to the rescue.” Adele started playing in the background, echoing around the room, “Ahh, it’s  _ our _ song, come on Stiles!” Malia took his hand, bolting off holding onto Stiles’s hand. 

 

**Present Day**

  
  
  


Stiles kept his eyes pressed shut. A tear broke free then it was followed by a stream like a water breaking from a dam; his cheek bones trembled, he lay his hand on his stomach as the memory tore through him like a bullet. The walls that had been holding him up for weeks since her death were collapsing at the seam, he was afraid to open his eyes, in fear that he had put all his loved ones through the agony of remembering Malia, when the man promising Stiles that he would see his first love again was a stranger and could easily be a liar. Stiles didn’t know if it would work, but he did know, that he needed to see her again. 

 

Ice-cold fingertips gently lay down on his cheek, he shivered; a thumb brushed across his cheek removing the tears. Stiles’s whole body shook, he had never felt something so bitterly cold, it creeped through his whole body, like he had been wrapped in a blanket of snow. Even though he was numb, he felt safe and the sensation of dread was gone. His eyes blinked open and he focused on the form in front of him, “Malia.” She grinned, her body was glowing, proof she wasn’t meant to be in front of him; her hair was perfectly straightened, her shirt and denim shorts were plain chalk-white. “Malia,” he repeated.

 

“Hello.” Malia’s voice echoed; Stiles’s smile widened, ear-to-ear. She stroked his cheek, “what have you done to yourself?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he bawled, “I’m so sorry for everything I did to you!”

 

“It’s okay,” Malia drew him into a hug, he nestled his face into the groove of her shoulder, howling as tears ran down, “I got you.” She placed her hand on the back of his head, she moved around and whispered, “I forgive you.” 


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you two…” Graham stepped forward, Malia and Stiles were still tightly clinging onto each other, not seeming to want to let go, “I mean it’s been an hour. Are you both okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles bent back, taking Malia’s hand in his, “Malia. This is Graham, he’s a druid, with magic. He helped this whole thing happen.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Malia smiled, “thank you so much for everything. Now can you explain how the hell I’m here?” The glow surrounding her had faded and she looked alive, which was impossible, because Stiles could not feel her pulse under his fingertips; her skin was still colourless, but her smile was as alive as it had always been.

 

“You're not alive,I’m sorry.” Graham began, “I needed a strong enough connection between you and all your loved ones to break the barrier between this world and the spirit world.”

  
“We used love,” Stiles sobbed, “to save you. We remembered you, that’s all it took.”

 

“Who remembered me?” Malia questioned.

 

“Me, Scott, Lydia, both your Dad's, Lia, your Aunt, Parrish, Cora, Derek. Everyone. Accept we couldn't get hold of Liam and his clique on time.” Stiles chuckled, tears running down his cheeks, “They all love you.”

  
“But why bring me back?” Malia asked.

 

“I wanted to say sorry.” Stiles cried, “for everything wrong I did and I just, wanted to see you! Be with you, one last time.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be the last time.” Graham spoke, they both snapped their eyes to him, “I need to ask you something, something big. It won’t just change your life, it will change the lives of the whole world.”

 

Malia looked to Stiles, “We’re listening,” she commented. Graham gestured for them to come and sit down; Stiles gripped onto her hand, as they both sat opposite him, “what do you need us to do?”

 

“You two need to understand something.” Graham began, “Magic is strict. Like the spell I just used to get you here Malia, it requires connection, it wouldn’t have worked without it. I can hardly use any spells because they require so much commitment and time to process the idea of what the spell entails. When I heard about the McCall pack, listening and seeing you lot work together, since Scott was first bitten, I felt the connection in the ground settle and since, I’ve been keeping my eye on you. For instance, Stiles, you once crashed your jeep, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded.

 

“You were dying, You’d cracked your skull,” he started,”but I saved you, so you could save your friends. I regret not always being there, like Erica, Boyd, Allison, Aiden and you, Malia. Even some events are hard for me to stop.” Graham explained.

 

“Well, if you hadn’t saved Stiles, I wouldn’t have fallen for him,” Malia smiled, nudging Stiles’s shoulder.

 

“Thing is, this world needs the McCall pack. I had a glimmer of the future in a dream, when you lot save the world,” Graham grinned, “everyone. Human and supernatural, but not like you are now,” they both frowned, “Malia, you’re dead. The pack...the pack will never be the same. Everyone is splintered, it’s not whole. It needs to be whole again.”

  
“Whole how?” Stiles asked.

 

“There is a spell, I can use that will delete days...that’s the best I can describe it as. Some druids call it time travel, but it isn’t because once I’ve done it. It can not be undone.” Graham summed up.

 

“Are you saying you can take us back to before Malia was injured and I can save her?” Stiles asked.

 

“No, my boy, I’m saying you save Malia and many other innocent lives.” Graham told him, “I can take you back to before Allison and Aiden died.”


	19. Chapter 19

“We can save Allison and Aiden?” Malia questioned, “you mean, like if we do that, Stiles and I would have never met, right?”

 

“Well that’s the thing, the spell requires a connection and I think the connection between you both is rather strong right now. If I send you back, you two will be the only two to ever remember this timeline.” Graham explained, “and me, of course.”

 

“Can we save Erica and Boyd as well?” Stiles asked.

 

“I told you magic was strict, I can only go back as far back as September 14 th  2011.” Graham told them.

 

“Why?” Stiles asked.

 

“Because the rule is, the first time you use the spell, whatever date you went back to is set in stone. I once travelled back to September 14 th  2011 to save my daughter from dying in a car accident.” Graham explained.

 

“So we can only go back to the 14 th,  well, if we went back to the 21 st that’s the date we did the ice bath sacrifices, Allison, Scott and I. If I stop us from doing that, then Void Stiles would have never possessed me. We could change so much,” Stiles held tighter onto Malia’s hand, “What about Parrish?”

 

“What about Parrish?” Malia repeated, “what about him?”

 

“The hellhound was activated because of what we did to the Nemeton. If we never do that, he dies in an explosion,” Stiles spoke, worried, “I couldn’t do that to Lydia.”

 

“The hellhound has been in Jordan Parrish since the day he was born,” Graham started, “it will save him, but getting him to Beacon Hills in an entirely different way.”

 

“I can do that,” Stiles smirked.

 

“Are we actually going to do this?” Malia asked “but it will change everything. Like what about Liam?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Stiles’s smile faded, “we’d never have met him.”

 

“I think the McCall pack will always find a way to home in on each other. Trust me. You could either look for him or, let the new timeline take its course.” Graham beamed, “or carry on with this life, Stiles. You were settled in on the Tate farm.”

 

“You’ve been with my family,” Malia smiled, “did they have the baby?”

 

“Yeah, Kylie,” Stiles answered, Malia beamed, “We need to do this, right? We could save so many people. Meredith will never make that list because Allison never would have died, meaning she never heard Lydia scream.”

 

“Theo? Dread Doctors?” Malia quizzed.

 

“I guess we can stop them before they even come to town,” Stiles told her, “we can save so many people.”   
  


“But we would have never dated.” Malia sighed.

 

“Up for trying again.” Stiles quizzed.

 

“Yeah,” she nodded.

 

“Listen, I will come and get you, as soon as we’ve saved all the parents from the Nemeton, I’m coming for you.” He placed his hand on her cheek, “I promise.” 

 

“I trust you,” Malia smiled, “this will change everything and we’ll be the only people to ever remember this version of reality.”

 

“That’s scary,” Stiles fumbled for his phone, “but I need to see if Liam will answer before we even consider doing this, just in case we never hear from him ever again.” He stood up, resting into the table, dialling the youngest member of the pack, “Hey kid.”

 

_ “Stiles! I am so sorry I didn’t answer, I just,” _ Liam shouted.

 

“It’s fine, we’re okay,” Stiles answered back.

 

“We? It worked, is she there? Malia?” Liam asked, Stiles held the phone out to Malia, who took it off him, placing it to her ear.

 

“Hi Liam,” Malia said, tears forming in her eyes, “How you doing?”

 

_ “I can’t believe it’s really you! I’ve seen weird things in this life, but never thought I’d talk to someone we lost,” _ Liam said, over-excitedly. 

 

“It’s fine, Liam,” Malia looked up at Stiles, “wait two seconds,” she lowered the phone, “we should tell him. Just in case we do never see him again.”

  
“You’re right,” Stiles nodded, “tell him.”

 

“Liam...we need to ask you something,” Malia paced away, she explained the whole thing, Liam never interrupted; he just listened and took in all the new information that was still spinning wheels in Stiles’s head. Like how would Kira’s powers activate? Would she have even come to Beacon Hills? They’re were so many principles that they hadn’t thought of, but at the same time, so many lives would be saved. Innocent lives.

 

“Hey Graham,” Stiles whispered, “one thought has been crossing my mind, Kira, her parents brought her to  Beacon Hills because of the Nemeton. I can’t take her away from Scott.”

 

“This spell will still bring supernatural creatures to your town, I think Noshiko Yukimura will come to Beacon Hills,” Graham smiled, “I will try and watch over you more, but my grandson, I don’t know him that well, he’s almost three and he calls me, the guy downstairs and not Grandpa. I was overly obsessed with you guys, since I first sensed your pack. Forgot about me and my life.”

 

“You’ve always wanted to fix us.” Stiles beamed; he stepped back, “this time round, we’ll look out for you and visa versa.” 

 

“Thank you, Stiles,” they both turned to see Malia, who was crying as she spoke to Liam about how proud she truly was of him and Hayden; Stiles listened, tears teasing down her pale complexion, he had never heard her get personal and emotional towards anyone besides him, Scott, Kira and Lydia.

 

“Listen, Liam,” Malia’s voice cracked, “I know that we weren’t as close as we could have been,” she sat down, “but I am grateful for you, you are like my little brother and I hope,” she wailed, Stiles jogged over, kneeling down in front of her and she leapt into his arms, falling onto the ground.

 

“Hey,” Stiles rubbed Malia’s back, taking the phone, “sorry Liam,” he spoke, he could hear Liam coughing to try and man himself up, to show he had not be crying, “Liam, listen it’s okay, Malia gets to all of us.”

 

_ “Sorry, Stiles. Look, I have to go, I will be spending the last day of this timeline with my girlfriend and her baby cousin.”  _ Liam’s voice cracked,  _ “thank you, Stiles. For everything.”  _

 

“Thank you, Liam,” Stiles grinned, tears filling his eyes; he hung up. “Okay then, game over, hey?” 

 

Malia laughed, “play again?”

 

“Yeah.” 


	20. Chapter 20

“So, how does this work?” Malia asked Graham.

 

“It’s quite easy actually,” Graham shrugged, “I just say something whilst you just think about each other,” he smirked.

 

“Couple goals, hey, Malia?” Stiles questioned, “Our love is gonna change time.”

 

“Change the world,” Graham added; he walked forward, stood in-between both of them, “Hold your arms out,” he told them. Stiles lay his arm out in front of him; Malia swallowed the fear, holding her hand out, “grip onto each other’s arms.” Stiles wrapped his hand around Malia’s arm and she gripped her fingers gently around his arm, “now I need to read the book.”

 

“Oh,” Stiles chuckled nervously. “When you’re doing that, can I ask when exactly will you take us back to?”

 

“Just before you entered the ice bath, Stiles,” Graham began, “but there are small side effects. This spell will basically just transport the consciousness you have now with the one back then,” he flipped through the book, “so it will be a lot of information at once for your body.”

 

“So I understood none of that,” Malia stepped in, “so basically it will just knock us out.” 

 

“Yeah,” Graham nodded, “the spell starts with both of you, so it has to end with you too, you will both be physically weak until you see each other again.”

  
“So basically the last three weeks of my life?” Stiles asked, Malia chuckled, “God Allison was always worried about how skinny I was, if I just collapse, she’ll soccer mum me again,” Stiles chuckled.

 

“You’ve missed her,” Malia grinned.

 

“Yeah. I get to save two girls I love today,” Stiles beamed, he leant forward, keeping their arms linked together, “we’ll have a better life,” Malia looked up at him, “together, if you like.”

 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Malia giggled, they went to kiss, but a large shout from Graham stopped them, “What?”

 

“That’s the connection we need!” Graham exclaimed, “save it.” 

 

“We can do that,” Stiles said leaning back, keeping their arms intertwined, he whistled, tilting his head to the ceiling; Malia tutted, biting her bottom lip, “ugh.”

 

“Okay, got it.” Graham walked forward, “You two sure you’re ready?”

 

“Are you?” Stiles quizzed.

 

“As I’ll ever be.” Graham told them, “okay, you need to concentrate on each other, why you love each other? Think about your friends, Stiles, you mainly should think about Allison and Aiden. Malia, you can think about everyone else.” Graham explained.

 

Stiles and Malia leant in closer to each other, “I’m coming for you.” Stiles whispered into her ear.

 

“Oh you better,” Malia laughed.

 

“Okay, I’m about to start to the spell,” Graham told them, “no going back now.”   
  


“Just do it,” Malia and Stiles said in unison. 

 

“ _ Invocate deos accipias nobis viginti duo milia Kalendas Octobris alter locus quaerere _ .” Graham chanted, the glow that had been surrounding Malia, now shone on the outside of all three of them; Malia and Stiles chuckled,  it felt like they were both hovering off the ground.

  
Malia and Stiles closed their eyes, gripping onto each other so tight, remembering every part of their relationship, but the same word escaped both their lips and when it did, time stopped and that word was, “anchor.”


	21. Chapter 21

One second, Stiles Stilinski was stood in San Francisco in 2014 holding onto Malia Tate, the next, he was stood in Deaton’s veterinary practise behind a metal bath tub, with Lydia behind him; to the right, Allison Argent and Isaac Lahey and to his left, Scott McCall and Alan Deaton. He could hear Deaton talking, but the words sounded like white noise to him; his head was spinning, he could hear them, but they came out like echoes, like it mixed with every other sound around.

 

He had just taken one breath in 2014 and was now back in 2011, like  nothing had ever happened. He looked down to his fists, retracting his fingers back and forth, he felt younger, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter and as the weight shifted, his body collapsed down to the ground, Isaac was the first to sense the boy, he stepped forward, catching him before he hit his skull off the ground.

 

“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, kneeling down on the ground; Allison ran over to her bags, grabbing her jacket and wrapping it, placing it on the floor as Isaac lowered him down, “what the hell happened?” Scott lay his hand on top of his friends, “is he okay?”

 

Deaton crouched down, checking his pulse, “Hey Stiles. Can you hear me?” He peeled back Stiles’s eyelids, Lydia bit her lip, pacing over to Allison, who couldn’t tear her eyes off her friend.

 

“Was he acting any different?” Deaton asked.

 

“He had a panic attack,” Lydia told them, “but he was fine afterwards and just then, he was fine, but he kind of lost the colour in his cheeks and he definitely couldn’t hear what we were saying.” 

 

“He seems fine, just a little bit of a fever, ” Deaton stood up, “it might just be a lack of sleep.” He rose from the spot, “we’ll have to wait until he wakes up.” Isaac backed up, taking a seat in the corner, Lydia joined, she rested her head on her arms, Allison took a seat next to Stiles, twiddling her fingers through his hair.

 

“He is a bit hot,” she said, concerned.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Scott snapped, “he has to be.”

 

“He will be,” Allison smiled, “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine.” Scott stood up, “and he will be too.”

 

Allison kept brushing Stiles’s lock, his eyes opened, “back with us, sleepy head?” 

 

“Ally?” He sat up, jumping into her arms, tightening his arms around her back, Allison chuckled, placing her hands on his shoulders.

 

“Hey, Stiles, you okay?” She quizzed, pushing back on his shoulders; her smile faded when she saw his eyes, “Stiles?” He jumped up, wobbling, but Scott balanced him onto his feet.

 

“Stiles?” Scott stabilized him on his feet, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

 

“I’m good.” He ruffled his hair, walking to a mirror, “nice to be young once more,” he slapped his own face.

 

“Is he on anything?” Isaac asked, as they watched Stiles skip out of the room.

 

“Yesterday, I would have said no,” Scott sighed, “but now I’m not so sure.”

 

“I’ll talk to him,” Allison walked out, “Stiles,” she saw him stood outside, his arms crossed; she picked up his backpack and trailed out, she took out his hoodie, wrapping it around his shoulders, “what’s wrong with you?” She asked, wrapping her arm around him.

 

“I know where they are. I know where the Nemeton is.” Stiles grinned, “it’s like a map in my head.”

 

“How?” Allison asked.

 

“Magic.” He answered, looking up at the sky, “the stars are different.”

 

“They look the same to me.” Allison laughed.

 

“They wouldn’t if you’d been where I’d been.” Stiles joked, “I can save our parents, your Father, my Dad and Mum.” He turned around, unlinking arms and pulling the door open; not even noticing that he had called Melissa “Mum,” but Allison noticed and as she smirked, a tear dripped down her face. She turned back, as she opened the door and roar came from deep within the forest. 

 

“Malia.” Stiles muttered.

  
“Who?” Lydia asked as she walked into the main entrance.

 

“My girlfriend.”


	22. Chapter 22

 

“We need to talk about Stiles.” Allison spoke up; she was sat in Isaac's car with Scott in the back, “we were all too scared to go in the Jeep with him and he drove off before we could say anything.” She turned to look at Scott, “who’s Malia?”

 

“No idea,” Scott shrugged.

 

“He said girlfriend,” Isaac stated, “Stiles doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t,” Scott itched the back of his head; taking in a deep breath, “maybe he is on drugs.”

 

“Scott!” Allison exploded, “you can’t say that.”

 

“What? It was Isaac first!” Scott argued.

 

“Hey! I’m not the one saying that their best friend might--”

 

“Boys! Please.” Allison ordered, she heard them both mutter under their breath, “you’re grown teenagers, don’t make me beat you both up!” 

 

“Okay,” Scott sighed, “but we do need to work out what is wrong with him. He made Lydia and Deaton go and get Derek and Cora so that they can help find Aiden to help him stop his brother and Kali from killing Derek. How does he even know that Aiden’s on our side? Stiles is being super shifty.” 

 

“He’s being Stiles,” Allison commented, “but not  _ my _ Stiles,” she watched Isaac’s face drop, “not like that, idiot. He’s like my brother. His eyes, they were much older than they used to be, it’s like he’s lived a life that we weren’t there for.” 

 

“That’s insane, Allison.” Isaac chuckled.

 

“He called me Ally, he’s never called me that before,” Allison stated, “no one calls me that.”

 

“He does, but only behind your back, he was scared you’d snap him like you did when Kenny called you that in class.” Scott explained.

 

“That was because Kenny is a creep who follows people around with a camera, like Matt.” Allison corrected, “Stiles is acting weird around me.”   
  


“Yeah, he was staying close to you,” Isaac stated, “he looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in really long time.” He looked up outside, he pulled the car over, “what the hell?” Stiles was knelt on the forest floor; Allison and Scott jumped out.

 

“Stiles!” She ran over.

 

“I’m fine,” he rose from the spot, “I just felt sick.” 

 

“Okay, Stiles. Before we carry on with this. Tell us what is wrong with you? What’s changed?” Scott questioned, slamming the door; jogging over.

 

“It’s a long story and I promise, all of you, I know I’m acting weird,” Stiles started to walk off, turning back, “weirder than normal, I know, but if you guys trust me, I’ll explain later.”

 

“Can you answer one question? Just one?” Allison asked, “well two.”

 

“You get three.” Stiles leant into a tree.

 

“Are you dying?” Scott questioned, biting his bottom lip to try and stop emotions from overtaking. 

 

“What? Scott..” Stiles walked over taking him into a hug, “hey, I’m okay, I’m not dying,” he rubbed his back, “I’m more than fine, I’m the King of fine, no wait, I’m probably not, but I’m okay now,” he drew back, “trust me.”

 

“How do you know where the Nemeton is?” Isaac quizzed.

 

“It’s like a map in my head, but it’s an entirely new question to make me explain that,” Stiles sighed, “Allison? Your question?”

 

“Why were you so happy to see me?” Allison asked, Stiles’s cheeks flushed, “be honest with me, please.”

 

“You’re my mate and you’re the first face I saw when I woke up.” Stiles brushed it off, he opened the Jeep door taking his backpack out and swinging it on his shoulders.

 

“Honestly,” her voice cracked, she gestured her hands, “the only time I’ve seen someone with a face like that is when Scott saw you after thought you had died after Gerard kidnapped you!” 

 

“Oh please, don’t cry, Ally, please.” Stiles begged.

 

“Then tell me!” Allison bellowed.

 

“You died!” Stiles spilled, Allison stepped back, “You died.”

 

“What?” Scott quizzed.

 

“She died, you died.” Stiles spoke, bluntly, “I saw you dead! In Scott’s arms.”

 

“Was this a dream or something?” Allison questioned.

 

“Sorry, you’re out of questions,” Stiles kicked the ground, walking off into the forest; all three of them followed him, a rain-cloud over their heads, Isaac wrapped his arm around Allison’s back, Scott stayed between them and a few steps behind Stiles, who froze, leaning into a tree, rubbing the brim of his nose.

 

“Stiles?” Scott walked over, pressing his hand on his shoulder, “maybe we should sit.”

 

“I’m the King of fine,” Stiles winked, he held his stomach, “maybe I’m the King of  _ I need to throw up _ .” He walked around the tree and brought up the contents of his stomach, Allison let go of Isaac kneeling down by Stiles with Scott, the boy leant back into his friend, “I’m sorry that I scared you.”

 

“You didn’t scare me, Stiles,” Allison cried, “I just want to know what’s going on with you.” 

 

“It will be fine, we just need to find them,” Stiles smiled, Allison and Scott helped him up; he wrapped his arms around them both, “I might throw up on both of you.”

 

“I’ve seen worse,” Scott told him, “Mum’s a nurse.”

 

“There!” Stiles pointed out in front of them; the sun was disappearing behind the forest, “we have twenty-four hours.” He staggered forward, pulling himself away from the pair, through the path of two trees, “Dad! Mum! Argent!” He shouted.

 

Allison, Isaac and Scott charged through the passage, “oh my! That’s a large tree.” Isaac exclaimed.

 

“Well done, Captain Scarf man!” Stiles yelled, “Nice deduction.”

 

“So even when you’re ill, you still hate me?” Isaac asked.

 

“Love/hate relationship Isaac,” Stiles winked, “Dad!” He screamed.

 

“I heard something,” Scott muttered, Stiles charged over by the tree lifting up at a trap door, he screamed out, “Stiles!” Scott charged over, Jennifer walked out the chamber pushing him back, Allison went for her, but she didn’t have her arrows; the Darach grabbed her wrist, kicking her down into the root cellar.

 

Stiles crawled across the ground, grabbing Allison and helping her up, “Allison?” Argent questioned.

  
“Dad!” She charged over, kissing his forehead and hugging him; Stiles slid over to his Dad, untying him and taking him into an embrace.

 

“Nice to see you,” Melissa laughed.

 

“I’ll be there in a sec, Mum!” In Stiles’s version of reality, he called Melissa, ‘Mum,’ and now, they’d never heard it, “sorry, slip of the tongue.” 

 

“It’s fine, Stiles,” both Melissa and the Sheriff told him.

 

“Jennifer!” Scott bellowed, “let us in, you’ve lost!” Isaac charged for her, “Isaac no!” Jennifer gripped onto Isaac pushing into the tree, knocking him out cold; she then throw mountain ash into the area around the shelter. “No!”

 

“You won’t just lose three tonight, but five,” she laughed, “I’ll let you keep that one,” she said pointing to Isaac, “out of courtesy.” 

 

“Scott! I thought I heard you and Jennifer,” Deucalion’s voice came out from behind the trees; he paced out, “We had a deal.”

 

“Well, stuff changed!” Scott shouted, “I don’t have time for this! Are you alone?”

 

“The rest of my pack is preoccupied.” Deucalion laughed.

 

“You want her dead,” Scott pointed, “then bloody help me.”

 

“You go Scott!” Stiles shouted from below; another wave of dizziness hit him and Allison stumbled forward, lowering him into a seating position, “that’s enough for me.” Melissa shuffled over, placing her hand on his forehead.

 

“You’ve got a fever,” Melissa told him.

 

“He knows,” Allison explained, “he fainted.”

 

“You what!” The Sheriff shouted.

 

“Dad, it’s fine,” Stiles reassured him, “I am fine,” he leant into Allison.

 

“You promised Scott you weren’t dying,” Allison snapped.

 

“I’m not.” Stiles told her, “I’m just a little ill,” Allison looked up at Melissa, who shook her head.

  
“Okay, no more time for jokes,” Allison rushed through her sentence, “tell me, what you did?”

  
“I used magic.” Stiles answered.

 

“Stiles!” Argent exclaimed, “magic is a dangerous game! There are so many rules and regulations, if you don’t stick to one, you die.”

 

“I know, I also know which rule I’m not sticking to. I need to find the person I made the connection with that allowed me to use the spell,” he said, running out of breath, clinging onto Allison, “I have to find Malia. Malia Tate, I have to find her or I’m going to die.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Scott McCall could hear Allison crying along with his Mother screaming at everyone as Stiles grew weaker in the bunker. Panic took over him; he was stuck between Deucalion and Jennifer, who both wanted him dead, but wanted each other dead more, but his brother was dying. He couldn’t have that, he had to get to him, even if it killed him. 

 

He moved forward, placing his hand in front of him; he was blocked by the mountain ash, Jennifer was stood on a top step of the root cellar, as he leant down he could see a colourless Stiles Stilinski curled up on the lap of Allison, his head tucked on her knees, she was playing with his hair as Melissa, Sheriff and Argent checked him over. Stiles smiled up at his friend, Scott pushed forward, Deucalion watched on in disbelief. 

  
“You've tried this before, Scott. I don't remember you having much success!” Jennifer exclaimed, Scott closed his eyes; thinking about losing Stiles, losing everything he had ever built in his life and he thought about the future, what it may hold if he became a true alpha. He pushed forward, Jennifer stepped down a step, away from him. Argent went up to get her, but he saw Scott, he knew what was going to happen.

 

A loud vibration travelled through the ground, Scott stood forward looking down, knocking Jennifer onto her feet; his eyes glowing red. “That’s my friend.” Stiles coughed weakly, “the true alpha.” 

 

Jennifer stumbled up, “How did you do that?”

 

“I'm an alpha now. Just leave Beacon Hills, forget about your plan or I'll kill you myself. I don't care what it does to the color of my eyes.” Scott snapped.

 

“Allow me!” Deucalion moved forward, slicing his claws over Jennifer's neck; she fell down the stairs. Allison carefully moved Stiles back as the body hit the ground.

 

“That’s nice,” Stiles commented, he fell limply back into her; Scott dashed down the stairs.

 

“Stiles!” He ran over, “you can’t break a promise, now, hey? What is this I’m hearing about magic?”

 

“Yeah, I need her,” Stiles pushed himself into a sitting position, “help me up,” Allison and Scott guided him up the stairs with their parents close behind, Deucalion was gone, “okay, I think I know how to get her here.”

 

“How?” Allison asked, he turned his arm around.

 

“I broke this on the fall down, I think,” Stiles explained, “hurts like hell. Twist it.”

  
“What?!” Allison shouted.

 

“I can’t survive unless I find her,” Stiles shook weakly, “if I scream, trust me, she’ll come.”

 

“Okay,” Allison nodded, “I love you, bro!”

 

“Love you too, sis!” Stiles smiled; Allison snapped his arm back, Stiles screamed out in agony, so loud that Isaac snapped awake, eyes glowing yellow. “Celestine Allison Argent!” Stiles screeched, “I set twist it, not break another bone! God. I am so happy I’m not dating you.”

 

“How do you know my first name?” Allison asked, her forehead creased.

  
“I’m clever.” Stiles coughed, the sound of a coyote howling came from close by, “that’s my girl!”   
  


“Okay,” Sheriff stepped forward, “You said Malia Tate, but she died, in a car accident with her sister and mum about eight years ago.”

 

“She didn’t!” Stiles yelled, “she’s adopted. Her biological Mother is the Desert Wolf, a assassin and her biological Father, well he’s Derek and Cora’s creepy Uncle. When she was nine, the Desert Wolf shot at her car and tried to kill her, she transformed and accidently killed her only family. Than we saved her and I fell for her.”

 

“Stiles, the spell you did,” Argent spoke, “I think I know what it is, it’s the one when you delete time to change reality. You’ve lived a completely different life, a different timeline.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “One where I was possessed by a Nogitsune - Void Stiles! He killed people, like Allison and Aiden,” he said, leaning into Allison, “than Meredith Walker, a Banshee, wrote a hit list of supernatural creatures as a result of being the patient who slept next to Peter Hale and heard his dreams of power; Kate Argent came back as a she wolf and killed a lot of people. Then there was Theo Raeken and the Dread Doctors, who split us up. We met a badass kitsune. Scott had a betas too, cute kids.” 

 

“How long has it been, since you saw me?” Allison asked.

 

“Just under three years.” Stiles sighed.

 

“Three years, why change it after three years?” Allison quizzed.

 

“Because I lost hope; hope is needed when you’ve lost everything,” Stiles wobbled, “I lost Malia. She died in my arms and that’s when I said enough was enough, we needed a second chance.” He looked over at Argent guiding a confused Isaac back over, “all of us.”

 

“That’s a heavy burden, Stiles,” Scott explained.

 

“It’s not mine alone,” a coyote leaped over into the clearing, Stiles knelt down in front of her; they all watched her eyes glow blue, “hey,” she jumped up onto Stiles, “nice to see you too!” He exclaimed, stroking along her side, “Allison pass me my backpack, please.”

 

“Yeah,” Allison picked up his backpack, throwing it over.

 

“Here you go,” Malia placed the bag in her mouth and bolted away; Stiles stood up, strong, no longer in need of support. 

 

“Where did she go?” Scott questioned.

 

“Well, if she transformed now, she’d be naked.” Stiles stated, Melissa took hold of his wrist, “what?”

 

“That’s not possible, how can you go from your death bed to a healthy teen boy?” She questioned.

 

“Magic,” he and Argent said in unison.

 

“And the right girl,” Stiles added.

 

“Stiles,” a small voice came from behind; he swiftly turned around, to see Malia, in human form, dressed in his orange, blue and yellow flannel that trailed down to her knees, with black jeans on, but still barefooted; her long brown hair was tangled and unruly, but she was still Malia, alive and breathing. She was too scared to look at the others, she just stared at him; pale in complexion and scared to move, Stiles’s eyes met hers and he smiled, ear-to-ear, so happy that she was in front of him, alive. He impulsively separated Melissa’s hand from his wrist, his whole world slowing down as Malia pushed herself of the tree and they collided together, “what time do you call this?” She whispered into his ear.

 

“Sorry,” he leant forward, taking her into a kiss; Scott cheered, knowing his brother had finally got the girl. 

 

“Stiles. Malia,” the Sheriff stood forward, they both split, turning around, “I know you’re both happy to see each other and you did whatever with a spell, but Malia, you are still a girl who supposedly died years ago.”

 

“Oh yeah,” she commented, “I better get to my Dad’s and when I say that, I mean Henry, not Peter.”

 

“Peter doesn’t even know.” Stiles told her.

 

“Good.” She darted her eyes over to Allison, who was beaming away, “You must be Allison!” She jogged over, “I never got to meet you before.”   
  


“Well, Malia, I guess I’m here to stay this time around,” Allison grinned, “we’re going to have so much fun.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

**10 Years Later**

 

“Hey, Luke, Claudia, you stick close to Mummy and Daddy, okay?” Stiles was knelt down in front of two young children; the small boy looked just like his Father, pale in complexion with unruly raven-black hair, he was the eldest, clearly, he was only five and his sister, was three, she looked like her Mother, long straight brown hair and a smile that never seemed to fade. 

 

“Okay, Dad!” Luke mocked, “come on Claudia,” he grabbed his sister’s hand, running off to the swing set in the park.

 

“Wow, he listened.” Malia joked, Stiles stood up, linking arms, “never thought that day would come,” she grinned, “oh, look at them.”

 

“Mini us,” Stiles laughed, “do you think both of them will be werecoyotes?”

 

“I don’t know, I mean they are both under five and they can already outrun you.” Malia giggled, Stiles rolled his eyes, “shush, it’s okay, we can deal with two more werecoyotes.”

 

“So no more kids?” Stiles questioned.

 

“Ugh, I don’t know yet,” Malia laughed, her eyes gazed over to a figure sat on a park bench, “oh my God, Stiles, look,” she pointed.

 

“Is that Graham?” Stiles quizzed, “after ten years, he finally turns up,” they both jogged down as the figure rose to his feet.

 

“Stiles Stilinski. Malia Tate.” Graham beamed.

  
“Malia Stilinski,” Malia corrected, “We got married.”

 

“A lot’s happened then.” Graham chuckled, “I would have been in contact sooner, but I was getting to know him,” he pointed out a boy who was sat on a swing.

 

“Your grandson, how old is he now?” Stiles questioned.

 

“Eleven.” Graham answered, “let me guess those two climbing the slide are yours.”

 

“Yeah,” Malia nodded; she chuckled, “oh my, Stiles; they are standing their ground again.” They watched as Claudia climbed onto her brother’s shoulders and they stood at the bottom of the slide, like they owned it.

 

“Are they good kids?” Graham grinned.

 

“Amazing,” Malia and Stiles both said.

 

“Just tiring.” Stiles sighed; they both laughed, then leant into each other, “very tired.”

 

“How have you been?” Graham questioned, “did things change?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Stiles began, “for starters, we’ve lost nobody. We never had the hit list, we got Parrish to help us deal with the Dread Doctors and Theo before they became an issue.”

 

“We got Theo checked into a home, not Eichen House, a nice one; maybe all he really needed was to understand right from wrong.” Malia explained.

 

“Yeah, but he has been in there for six years,” Stiles added.

 

“People need time.” Malia shrugged.

 

“So, you said Parrish, how did you get him here?” Graham questioned.

 

“We didn’t,” Stiles began, “we think the spell was enough to get him here, it got Kira’s family here too.”

 

“Yeah, everything worked out. Stiles and I got married six years ago, followed by Scott and Kira, than Isaac and Allison. Parrish and Lydia are together, but they’re not big on the idea of marriage. Corey and Mason are engaged. Liam is planning on asking Hayden soon, everything’s normal, we’re alive and it’s amazing.” Malia explained.

 

“So Liam’s lot is still part of the pack!” Graham exclaimed, happily.

 

“Yeah, that one is a long story.” Stiles chuckled, “a long one.”

 

“Do they all have children?” Graham asked. 

 

“Not all of them. Scott and Kira have twin boys, Parrish and Lydia have a daughter, Allison is pregnant with their first child. Corey and Mason are planning to adopt.” Stiles explained, “we were the first to have children though.” 

 

“So you don’t regret anything?” Graham questioned.

 

“Not at all,” Malia smiled, “this is the life we were meant to have.” 

 

“There is one thing,” Stiles rose his hand, “if Malia and I are apart for long periods of time, we both get sick.”

 

“Yeah, side effect, I’m afraid,” Graham said, “that hasn’t been a big problem, has it?”

 

“Well, luckily we both work for the FBI, so we are together most of the time,” Malia smirked, “but it also helps, we know when either of us are in trouble.” 

 

“I wish you two the best,” Graham shook both their hands, “the world is protected, with your pack here.” 

 

“Yeah, is is,” Malia beamed, “and we’re here to stay.”

 

**The end**


End file.
